


Call Me Conrad

by Rod



Series: Amy the Vampire Slayer [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hollyoaks
Genre: ...but nothing that doesn't happen in the books, Amy the Vampire Slayer, Conrad's Past, Crossover, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Sundry other Hollyoaks Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5640472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rod/pseuds/Rod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conrad's history comes back to haunt him.  How will it affect his freedom and his new-found friendships?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, none of the characters belong to me. Buffy is Joss Whedon's, Hollyoaks is Lime Pictures/Channel 4's, and Harry Potter is of course J.K. Rowling's.
> 
> This story starts only a few days after _Hellyoaks_ ends.

Justin Burton knew trouble was coming that Christmas Eve the moment Warren and Louise stepped into the _Dog_. There was something in the way that Warren looked around as if he was seeing the place in a new light that set off all his alarms. When Warren looked that pleased and Louise looked that embarrassed, nothing good could be coming.

When Darren was forced to admit that he'd gambled away his half-share in the pub to Warren, Justin worried that Frankie might actually explode with anger. Granted it wasn't very likely now that they had cleaned up the sacred grove that had been screwing over Hollyoaks village for centuries, but Justin didn't want to bet on things like that if he didn't have to. He knew at once that he would be no use calming the situation down. Warren hadn't bothered to hide his dislike once Justin had broken up with his little sister, and Frankie still hadn't forgiven him for her daughter-in-law's death. Nothing he said to either of them could possibly make things better.

That's why Justin was the one to follow Jack up to the living room and watch in horror as he collapsed to the floor clutching his chest.

"Jake!" Justin shouted, hoping that he would be heard over the row happening downstairs. He hurried to Jack's side and grasped Jack's free hand. "What's happening?" he asked, not knowing what else to do.

"Chest," Jack gasped. "Can't breathe."

Oh God, Justin thought, Jack was having a heart attack. He yelled once again for Jake as he dug out his phone and dialled 999. "We need an ambulance," he said frantically as the operator began his spiel. Jake burst into the room, took in the state of his step-father and his boyfriend, and swore. "Ambulance for the _Dog in the Pond_ ," Justin said as the new operator came on, infinitely relieved to have his other half there. "Jack's having a heart attack. What do we do?"

The operator rattled through a quick series of questions that ended with instructions to make Jack comfortable, feed him aspirin and keep him calm. "The ambulance will be with you in ten minutes," she concluded.

Justin was too busy to thank her. He and Jake fussed over Jack in perfect sync, handing over aspirin and stealing cushions from the chairs without needing to talk to one another. "You just hang in there, Jack," he said. "The paramedics won't be long."

"I don't like the way he looks," Jake muttered. "Is there anything we can do?"

Anything magic, he meant. Justin shrugged. The only magic they actually knew was the aura-seeing spell and the big solstice ritual. "We'd have to improvise," he said. They were inside, which was a bad start, so they would need incense and herbs or something, something that had the right associations with hearts or blood, or maybe flow or rhythm. Perhaps they could—

Justin's musings were interrupted by the door crashing open again. He looked up to see Frankie hurry in, trailed by Darren and Warren. Predictably, Frankie insisted on crowding over Jack, and Darren fell apart and flapped around uselessly. What Justin didn't like was the calculating way that Warren looked at him and Jake, as if he knew that something was going on but couldn't figure out what.

"We can't do anything while Warren's around," he murmured just loudly enough for Jake to hear. "Can you imagine what he'd try to get us to do?"

Jake favoured Warren with a glare. "If we have to, it won't take much to get Mum to throw him out," he murmured back.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." It wasn't as if they knew what they were doing with magic, Justin thought. Xander had warned them not to play around with it, and he had years of experience of magic going wrong around him. They could easily make Jack much worse if they tried something, and in this state that could kill him. Justin already had the death of one member of Jake's family on his conscience, he really didn't want to add another.

No, better to wait for the professionals this time.

***********

The McQueens' dinner table was hopelessly overcrowded in Craig's opinion, and he was used to big family meals. All of John Paul's sisters were there plus their boyfriends, which didn't leave a lot of elbow room. On top of that, once Myra had discovered that Niall was going to have Christmas on his own because he was new to the area, she insisted that he squeeze himself onto the table as well. "No one should spend Christmas Day alone, love," she had said, which was fair enough, but Craig wasn't sure that the rolling riot that was the McQueen household wasn't too much company. He felt lucky that John Paul's Nana was unable to make it.

"Right you lot, settle down," Myra said as she carried the turkey over and the McQueens started to swarm. "John Paul, you take the head of the table."

John Paul sighed and gave up trying to grab a side chair. At Craig's raised eyebrows he explained, "I'm the oldest male who's actually a McQueen, so I have to be the man of the house." He looked speculatively round the table as Craig settled in beside him. "Tony, would you like to carve?"

"It's alright, Myra," Tony said, forestalling the objection she obviously wanted to make, "I don't mind. It's nice to feel useful." Craig smirked at that little dig; the sight of restaurateur Tony Hutchinson being chased out of the kitchen had been pretty funny.

Myra slapped Tony's hand with a serving spoon as he reached for the carving knife. "We'll say Grace first," she said severely. "John Paul?"

John Paul sighed again and fumbled for Craig's hand. Craig took that as his cue, and pretty soon everyone was holding hands around the table as John Paul started muttering about being thankful for the food on the table and family to share it with.

Family, that was something Craig could get behind. He wasn't at all religious, and this praying lark just made him nervous, but having your family around you, knowing that you belonged, that was really important. It had hurt like hell being cut off from his family while he was in Dublin, not even sure he'd be welcome back. Having his family pull back together with such unexpected strength, and now being accepted into the McQueens without a murmur, that meant a lot to him. He breathed in the aromas of the Christmas dinner in front of him and knew he was home. Again.

When John Paul finished his short prayer, Craig meant it when he joined in the 'Amen'. As he said the word he felt something _shift_ in that weird way that meant magic.

He opened his eyes to a shimmering web of colour. Family, he thought dazedly; he could see everyone here tied together by family. "Wow," he heard John Paul say quietly beside him, and he could only agree. It was beautiful.

As plates clattered around him and arguments over the sprouts started, Craig just sat and stared. The ties that bound Myra, her daughters and John Paul together were big and bold and brilliant, just like the family they joined. There was no doubting that they were related, not with the vibrant colours dancing in front of him. Different but no less brilliant were the lines joining the couples around the table. Dom and Tina had their solid, quiet love; Tony and Jacqui were brighter and sharper-edged, but still strong; Carmel and Calvin were purest mush; and Ross and Mercy had this wild tumult that might last forever or might fall apart any minute now. All of the partners had their own family ties too, stretching off into the distance back to wherever the rest of their family were celebrating Christmas Day. Even Niall had... oh!

As surreptitiously as he could, Craig nudged John Paul and nodded at Niall. John Paul looked, did a double-take and looked questioningly back at Craig. Craig shrugged; they had to have seen the same thing, but he had no idea what to do about it.

John Paul closed his eyes for a moment, and Craig could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. The he abruptly stood and walked over to Niall's chair. Around the room the chatter ground to a halt as every eye turned to John Paul.

"You're in the wrong seat," John Paul said, smiling slightly.

Niall frowned, along with pretty much the whole of the rest of the room. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

John Paul grinned at him openly. "The oldest McQueen male sits at the head of the table," he said to the man their magic insisted was his brother.

A variety of emotions flitted across Niall's face — fear, anger, hope — before he settled back into frowning. Niall knew, Craig realised. Niall knew he was a McQueen, but for some reason he had kept it a secret. "But I'm not—" Niall began.

"Yes you are," John Paul said firmly. "I've no idea how, but you are my big brother. Since that's pretty much the best Christmas present I could ask for, you don't get to take it back."

Niall looked like he might try for a moment, but a clatter from the end of the table interrupted him. All eyes turned to where Myra had dropped her cutlery. "Matthew?" she breathed, and Niall turned to look at her with such shock that Craig wondered for a moment if he'd been wrong. "Oh my God, it is you," Myra said, then burst into tears and ran from the room.

Chaos erupted. Carmel hurried after Myra as everyone else tried to talk at once. "I don't understand," Michaela said once the immediate hubbub died down. "You're not just making this up?"

John Paul looked a little offended. "Trust me," he said, "he's our brother. There's no doubt about it."

"You'd be surprised what we can find out when we put our minds to it," Craig added. He was looking at Michaela, who paled gratifyingly over some teenage indiscretion, but his words were for Niall.

"But it doesn't fit," Tina insisted. "Jacqui, you're the oldest, you'd have known if Mum had another baby."

"Aye," Jacqui said, "and she didn't. What are you trying to pull here?" She looked narrowly at John Paul.

"He's my first," Myra said. She stood in the doorway clutching a small tin box, looking so lost. Behind her, Carmel looked even more confused than normal.

"What?" Mercedes said disbelievingly. "You were like eighteen when you had Jacqui."

"I was too young," Myra admitted. She turned to Niall. "Your Nana told me I couldn't keep you. So I wrapped you up as best I could, and I left you on the church steps that morning. I knew Father James would look after you."

"He..." Niall didn't seem to have any idea what to say. Craig watched the emotions flicker across his face almost faster than he could make them out, telling Craig again clearer than words that Niall knew. "Mum?" he finally said tentatively.

Myra rushed over and hugged him. The look on Niall's face as he hugged her back, like he couldn't believe anything this good could happen to him... Later, Craig though. He'd have it out with Niall, but later. Much later.

Eventually Myra pulled away. "I kept everything I could," she said, pushing the box towards Niall. "A lock of your hair, all the newspaper clippings..."

Niall put his hand over hers. "We can look at them later," he said with a strange smile. "Dinner's going cold." He turned to John Paul. "And I think you've earned that seat for today... brother."

Tony raised his glass as they returned to their seats. "Here's to family," he said, "and surprise presents." There was general agreement, and dinner resumed with a lot more smiles around the table than Craig was used to seeing from the McQueens.

"So," he murmured to John Paul, "the best Christmas present you could ask for, huh?"

John Paul looked guilty. "You were my best solstice present?" he offered.

"Oh, you are in so much trouble," Craig told him, but he smiled as he said it.

******

"Hey, Buffy?"

"Xander! It's good to hear from you at last. Hang on while I put you on speaker, there's lots of people who want to berate you for not being here."

"Berate, huh? Either you've got a word-a-day calendar or I'm in big trouble."

"Oh you're in big trouble all right, mister."

"Hi, Will. Happy Boxing Day!"

"Don't you 'Happy Boxing Day' me, Xander. You should be here with us."

"Hey, you're the one who sent me up here. Besides, you wouldn't want me to leave my Slayer and her boyfriend all alone for Christmas, would you?"

"We need you too. Christmas hasn't been the same without you doing the Snoopy dance."

"What Willow said. Couldn't you have left Andrew in charge or something?"

"Hi Dawn, and no I could not. Two words: Christmas dinner."

"Oh God, he would try something, wouldn't he?"

"..."

"Was that a happy sigh? That sounded suspiciously like a happy sigh."

"Dawnie!"

"It was a very happy sigh. I've never eaten so much in my entire life, including Thanksgiving."

"He didn't try anything weird?"

"Hey, no need to sound so disbelieving. And I did have to talk him out of using magic to make a Christmas pudding. He kept saying it needed more time."

"He's quite right actually. A proper Christmas pudding takes months to mature. Merry Christmas, Xander."

"Giles! Bestest boss a man could ask for!"

"Oh Lord. What do you want now?"

"He's polishing his glasses, isn't he?"

"Yup. You haven't lost your touch, Xander."

"Please don't encourage him, Dawn. Xander, just tell me what horrendous expense you want to put the Council to now."

"Don't worry, your Watcheryness, it's not that bad. I think; I haven't checked the house prices round here yet, but—"

"You're buying a house? But you're supposed to be down here with us!"

"You're supposed to be in Oxford, Dawn. But, uh, what she said. Oh, unless you just mean setting up a Slayer House there with all the druid stuff that's going on."

"Uh, kinda? We could do with a mini or two here to give Amy some backup, but I should stick around in case we need more druiding stuff. And you couldn't pry Andrew out of here with a crowbar."

"So leave him to deal with it. We need our Xanders here in London."

"..."

"That didn't sound like such a happy sigh."

"Buff, would you stick Kennedy in charge of somewhere and tell Willow to go somewhere else?"

"Well, duh. They're a couple."

"..."

"Buffy, did you read Xander's report?"

"Why would I read boring reports when there was Christmas shopping to do? In London?"

"Though he skimped on the details to my everlasting relief, Xander did mention that all those participating in the druidic ritual were couples."

"Wait, you mean Xander and Andrew...?"

"Yes, we're a couple. By the way, your toaster in the mail, Will."

"Heh, I won a toaster."

"You and Andrew?"

"Hey, no need to sound so incredulous about it. I have dated before, you know."

"But you and _Andrew?!_ "

"He's sweet, he's smart, and when he focuses on the same thing for six hours straight he's pretty damn scary too."

"Wow, it's serious."

"Dawnie? When did you get to be the mature one?"

"When I discovered boys my own age who weren't complete jerks."

"Ouch."

"You're not helping, Xander."

"Hey, if I was trying to not help the words 'older men' would definitely be involved."

"OK, I think you should know that I'm going to strangle you both."

"Children, if I may? I'm afraid you're right about the Druid's Grove needing your attention, Xander. Go ahead and look for properties, but check with me before you put any offers in. I doubt you'll find an estate agent open before New Year anyway, but you may find it harder than you think to locate somewhere suitable."

"Yeah, I'm kind of getting that. You British do like your pokey little homes."

"Your parents' apartment wasn't exactly huge."

"I know, Will, but — crap, is that the time? Sorry guys, I gotta run. I promised Jake I'd be some emergency cover for him."

"Emergency? Xan, if you need us—"

"Cover at his family's bar. Pub, I mean. His step-father... look, it's a long story. I'll tell you later."

"OK, if you say so. Be safe, Xander."

"I will. You too, you hear me?"

"Bye!"

********

Josh Ashworth huffed at the cold and pulled his boyfriend closer. It didn't do much good given they were both wearing coats, but it made him feel warmer.

Ste laughed. "You are such a wimp," he said, before kissing Josh on the nose. Josh couldn't help but smile back.

"You actually like it out here in the freezing cold?" he teased.

"Eh, it's not so bad." An outright lie as far as Josh was concerned, but he knew what Ste meant. Wandering around out in the cold had the major advantage of getting them out of the house.

Things had been OK over Christmas itself, particularly since the place was usually full of people who weren't Ashworths by birth at that time of year anyway. No one (meaning Rhys) wanted to risk his mother's wrath by breaking the spirit of the season, so no one had so much as hinted that there was anything weird about Ste living with them.

Now, a few days later, things were getting back to normal. Rhys had started making pointed remarks about having to share his room, and heaven help them if he got so much as a hint they'd had sex there. That had made Gilly and Beth feel guilty about taking over Josh's room, which was bound to lead to Gilly doing something stupid to 'solve' the problem. Josh himself felt guilty about taking advantage of them to claim his room back briefly, even if it was the only alone time he'd managed to get with Ste for days.

And then there was his dad. Josh loved him dearly, but he had to admit that in a nation of small-minded shopkeepers, Neville Ashworth was the most small-minded and shopkeepery. Watching him trying to wrap his head around the fact that Josh was gay was just painful. Eventually he'd get to dealing with Ste being Josh's boyfriend, and then the real fireworks would start.

Really, wandering around outside was the best option if they wanted any time together, even if it did mean being too public to do more than kiss. Josh had considered dropping round on Mr Harris, but that would just end up with his nose stuck in one of Mr Wells's books and Ste bored to tears. Even going round to Amy would inevitably lead to focusing on her problems, and selfish as it made Josh feel he wanted to focus on Ste instead.

Ste nudged him. "You're thinking too hard," he said amusedly.

Josh grinned and shrugged guiltily. "Thinking of you," he admitted.

"Definitely thinking too hard. I'm right here."

"I know." Josh gave in to impulse and gave Ste a quick kiss. "I love you."

Ste closed his eyes for a moment, smiling gently, then dived in for a deeper, longer kiss. His eyes were a bit glazed over when they came up for air, and Josh reckoned he didn't look any better.

"That's it," Ste said once he recovered. "We're looking for somewhere to live the moment the holidays are over."

Josh beamed at him. He had no idea how they were going to pay for it and just then he didn't care, but somewhere of their own, somewhere they could get a bit of privacy together, that sounded wonderful just then.

"Afternoon, lads."

Josh looked over at Mike Barnes warily, as did Ste. He wasn't used to Mike sounding cheerful without it being bad news for one of them. "Afternoon," he said cautiously.

Evidently Kathy Barnes wasn't used to it either, at least judging from the looks she gave her husband when he actually smiled at them. She recovered quickly though, and asked, "How was your Christmas?"

"Great," Josh said quickly. Kathy's question was more barbed than it sounded; they had told her that Ste and Amy would be spending Christmas with the Ashworths, something that hadn't pleased her at all. Of course that had been when Ste and Amy had been together, all of a week ago now, and God was it really only that long?

"I'm not used to having so many people about," Ste admitted. "When it was me, Mum and Terry, Christmas wasn't so different from any other day. This year it was a bit..."

"Overwhelming?" Mike offered.

"Rhys and Gilly can be a crowd all on their own," Josh agreed.

Kathy looked put out that they were getting on so well. "It was nice of Amy to stay home for her American friends," she said, rubbing it in that Amy wasn't with Ste or Josh any more. "Though she'd have been more than welcome to come to us."

"That's not going to happen any time soon," Mike said sadly.

"I don't see why not," Kathy huffed.

"She doesn't trust you," Josh said bluntly. Normally he'd be more diplomatic, but he was fed up with Kathy's attitude. How she could claim to be the injured party when she was the one who caused all the trouble he would never understand. "Honestly, can you blame her? You'll need to give her time to get over what happened."

"I've given her time!"

"No you haven't, not really," Ste said surprisingly gently. "Every time she talks to you, every time Mike reminds her of you, that brings it all back." He sighed. "What you did really hurt her. Getting over that, well, you've seen me and my mum."

"Much as it pains me to say it, he's right," Mike put in. He didn't look at all pained, which probably didn't make Kathy look any less incredulous. "Besides, judging from the leftovers, she got a good deal out of staying home."

It was a blatant change of subject, but Josh couldn't help but be intrigued. "Good food?" he asked.

Mike nodded. "Apparently Andrew is something of a cook, and he doesn't do small. Even with Mark and Conrad there, it's going to take Amy a while to eat it all. You two ought to get over there and help them finish it up."

Josh looked at Ste, sharing a moment of bemused understanding. Mike Barnes was all but ordering them to go and see his daughter, something he would never have done even a week ago. If he was doing that, it meant he thought she could cope with a visit from her ex-boyfriends. Perhaps she even needed it.

"We will," he told Mike. "In fact, why don't we go and do that now?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ste agreed. "It's been good to see you, Mike, Kathy."

"You too, lads. Have a happy New Year."

That earned Mike another peculiar look from Kathy. He didn't look concerned about it, and Josh certainly wasn't. Josh was far too pleased to have Mike as a friend now, after all the months of outright warfare while Josh had been going out with Amy. Just another side effect of them cleaning up the Grove, he supposed. And if Mike could see that much sense, maybe there was hope for Kathy too.

******

Amy could hear the snow crunching under Conrad's feet as he shifted uneasily. She spared him a sympathetic glance; he still wasn't used to being outside after spending so long locked up as a slave, and being in the Grove where his friend Simon had died wouldn't be making things any easier. It made her unspeakably proud that he was here all the same; the broken boy she had rescued nearly a fortnight ago wouldn't have dared to volunteer to come with her.

The coming year meant changes for them all, Amy reflected. Conrad was free, she was a Vampire Slayer, and young Mark had the biggest change of all to face. For nine years, as best they could figure it, Mark had been brought up to become a sex toy. To want to become a sex toy even, since he had never been allowed to realise how much the others hated what was happening to them. He was still adjusting to ideas like running around outside, eating sweets and watching cartoons on TV.

At the moment he was hugging a tree. "I can feel Simon," he declared, his voice muffled against the central oak of the Grove.

Conrad sighed and stepped closer. "He's gone, Mark," he said gently. "I saw him... I felt what he did. He was amazing."

"I can still feel him," Mark said stubbornly.

"I know," Amy told him. She couldn't feel a thing, and judging from the glances they had exchanged neither could Conrad, but she wasn't going to deny Mark any connection he might imagine to his friend.

A cloud drifted across the sun, briefly taking away what little warmth that New Year's Eve had. Amy shivered; being a Slayer didn't seem to help much against the cold. And if she was cold from standing still so long, Conrad and Mark must be freezing.

"Come on," she said softly. "It's time to say goodbye and go home. I'll make us all some cocoa to warm us back up."

Mark looked torn, but the bribe of cocoa won out. He stepped back, waved at the trees and said, "Goodbye, Simon," before looking defiantly at Amy. He still expected to be punished for insisting Simon was there, she realised. That was what his life had been like, being trained to be obedient. That thought beyond everything else made her sweep her strange little boy up into a hug, then whirl him round until he started giggling.

"You're getting so big," she said as she put him down. "Soon I won't be able to pick you up like that any more."

"You're a Slayer," Conrad pointed out. "You can probably pick me up like that."

Amy grinned. "Let's see, shall we?" she said before grabbing Conrad and swinging him around just like she had Mark. They ended up practically nose to nose, and Amy was struck by how handsome Conrad looked when he smiled. She almost forgot herself enough to kiss him. It wouldn't be fair to him, she told herself sternly. Conrad was still emotionally fragile after months of abuse. It wouldn't be right for her to pressure him like that.

She looked at Mark to distract herself. "Perhaps I'll be able to swing you round for a while yet," she told him.

Mark nodded. "I'm miles lighter than Conrad," he asserted.

Amy laughed at that, and was pleased to hear Conrad laughing with her. They were recovering, she thought as they turned for home. Her little family, unexpected and broken as it had been, was slowly recovering.

They had barely gone ten feet, Conrad still solemnly explaining to Mark that just because he was tall didn't mean he was heavy, when there was a sharp crack and three people appeared out of thin air in front of them. Before Amy could react, the one in front pointed a stick at them and spat out one word.

"Malfoy!"


	2. Confrontations

"Malfoy!"

Conrad pushed Amy and Mark behind him and stared at Harry Potter's wand. Any moment, he thought; any moment now the old feelings of contempt and jealousy would wash over him, and he would open his mouth and start insulting the Boy Who Lived. At least that way only he would end up getting hurt.

Amy made to push past him, and what actually washed over Conrad was abject terror. "No!" he said urgently. "Amy, no! They're wizards. They could really hurt you." Even with her Vampire Slayer reflexes, Conrad couldn't believe that she could take down all of the Golden Trio before one of them hit her with a spell. Especially not now all three of them had their wands out and ready.

Potter's eyes narrowed. "What's going on, Malfoy? How did you know we were coming here?"

"I didn't! Really, I didn't. I..." Conrad swallowed. He didn't want them of all people to know this, but he didn't see any way around it. "This is where I live."

They didn't believe him anyway if Weasley's snort was any indication. "We're miles away from Malfoy Manor," he said scornfully, before doubt evidently assailed him. "We are miles away, aren't we?"

There was a gasp from behind him. "A manor?" Mark asked. "Can I see it? Is it big? Is—"

"Mark, please!" Conrad managed to interrupt, too scared to take his eyes off Potter. "It's not mine any more." Nothing was. He couldn't even claim to be a Malfoy, didn't deserve the name he was born with. He was just Conrad, and all he had in the world was the people behind him.

Clouds covered the sun again, and in the dimmer light Potter stood out against the snow. "What. Is. Going. On?" he demanded.

Conrad tried to think of something placating to say, anything that would get Potter and his friends to leave Amy and Mark alone. Unfortunately Amy answered first.

"Don't talk to him like that," she shouted back.

"After what he's done I'll talk to him any way I like." Potter apparently wasn't in a forgiving mood, Conrad thought a little hysterically.

Neither was Amy. "If you threaten him again..."

"Threaten him?" Weasley practically exploded. "He's the one who got Dumbledore killed. He's the one who let the Death Eaters into school. After that, he'll be bloody lucky if threatening him is all we do!"

"Death Eaters?" Mark asked before Amy could do some threatening of her own.

"Bad people," Conrad explained, not taking his eyes off Potter still. "They work for an evil wizard called—"

"Shut up!" Weasley shouted suddenly, surprising Conrad into silence.

Amy sneered. "Make up your mind," she said. "Do you want him to talk or not?"

"It's just..." Granger trailed off, looking upwards suspiciously. "What was that?"

"Thunder," Potter said off-handedly. Conrad felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Potter evidently didn't, because he continued, "Look, I just want some answers. Let's start with an easy one; what are you doing here?"

"We were just..." Conrad trailed off, unsure of what to say. Would they believe him if he told them what Simon had done? Would they assume the worst, that it was Conrad's fault Simon was dead? Why shouldn't they, since really it was his fault for not thinking faster?

Potter made an impatient motion, but before he could say anything there was another, louder rumble of thunder. Conrad shivered; this time there was no mistaking the feeling that accompanied it. There was magic in the air, and a thunderstorm that had appeared much too quickly, and the only possible reason Conrad could think of was that they were arguing angrily in a sacred grove.

Praying to anyone who might be listening for help, Conrad turned and shouted at the sky. "No! You mustn't! Whoever... Whatever..." He foundered, tried again: "They're good people. You mustn't hurt them."

"Conrad?" Amy asked hesitantly.

"He's gone nuts," Weasley opined. "Utterly round the twist."

"Who are you talking to?" Granger demanded. Conrad couldn't help but flinch at the sharp edge to her voice. There had been too many days when that tone of voice meant he was going to be punished.

"I don't know," he admitted quickly. "I thought maybe..."

He was interrupted by an angry new voice; "What the actual hell is going on?" Conrad turned to see Ste enter the grove, Josh following a step behind looking equally unimpressed.

Potter groaned. Conrad took this as a good sign until he heard him mutter, "More Muggles? This is getting out of hand."

"Amy," Josh asked, "who are these people and what have they done?"

"They appeared out of thin air and started threatening Conrad," Amy said grimly.

"So they're the ones who have been messing around with magic?" Josh shared a look with Ste, and they moved to opposite sides of the central oak. Each ended up with one hand casually resting against the tree. Conrad wasn't fooled for a moment by their easy pose, and he didn't imagine that Potter was either.

Weasley apparently was that oblivious. "More cronies of yours, Malfoy?" he sneered. "What's the matter, did Crabbe and Goyle finally realise that you're a waste of space?"

There was another rumble, and Conrad couldn't help cringing. "Please," he begged Josh, "whatever's happening here, you've got to stop it. They're important."

"Important, maybe," Ste said dismissively. "But they're rude and gobby, and I'm not about to go out of my way to help them."

" _We're_ rude?" Potter asked incredulously.

"Harry," Granger said cautiously, "I think—" She broke off as Jake and Justin burst into the clearing. Conrad watched the now nervous Trio try to point their wands at everyone with a sinking heart.

"What's happening?" Jake demanded.

Josh answered first. "That bunch seem to be responsible for sending things haywire. They don't like Conrad much."

"So not all bad then," Justin said. Jake clipped him round the ear.

Josh paused until he had their full attention. "Protect him," he said simply. They nodded, albeit clearly grudgingly in Justin's case.

"Protect _him?_ " Weasley exploded. "After everything the Ferret's done, he's the last person you ought to be protecting."

"After everything that's happened to him," Jake said severely, "he's the first person we protect." Conrad had to look away; he knew it was his fault that Jake had fallen into _her_ clutches, no matter what the others said.

"Who are you people?" Potter demanded.

"Finally, a good question." Josh turned and smiled at the Trio unpleasantly. "We're the people you've royally pissed off by threatening our friends. Now, who the hell are you?"

"We're the people he's been pissing off for years," Weasley retorted. It was true, Conrad thought, but Josh didn't know that and Weasley obviously wasn't winning any points with him.

"Look," Potter said, "I don't know what the hell you've got going on here and I don't really care. All I want to know is how he found us," he nodded at Conrad, "and we'll be out of your hair."

Commendable caution, Conrad thought, but it was a bit late. Before he could protest again that he hadn't found them, that this really was just a coincidence, Amy snorted. "Not so tough now you're outnumbered, are you?"

Exactly the wrong thing to say to Gryffindors, and three wands and three glares were quickly trained on her. Which of course made Josh and Ste even angrier.

Fortunately they were distracted before any spells actually got cast. Less fortunately, the distraction was the arrival of the two druids Conrad knew least well, Jake's brother Craig and his boyfriend. They took the scene in quickly and seemed to take against Potter and his friends instantly just like everyone else had. The old Draco would have been delighted; the new Conrad was terrified that his friends were going to harm the people the Wizarding World was relying on.

"Who are this lot?" Craig asked his brother.

"Some bullies making Conrad miserable." Jake replied, not looking up from the intense conversation he was having with Justin.

"Bullies!" Weasley sounded like he was about to burst a blood vessel, and Conrad couldn't blame him. Granger at least managed to quieten him down before he said anything more inflammatory.

Josh fixed Craig with a significant look. "They appeared out of thin air."

Craig's eyebrows rose. "Interesting," he said. He and John Paul turned to each other, taking a deep breath and closing their eyes for a moment before starting apart.

"Wow," John Paul said, "you really are pissed off with them."

"What are they doing?" Potter demanded. He was looking at where Jake and Justin were holding hands and chanting, and Conrad could hear the edge of fear in his voice. "Malfoy, tell them to stop or—"

"Or what?" Ste interrupted scornfully. "You're not the one in charge here, you don't get to tell us what to do."

"Please," Conrad said hopelessly. "You mustn't... I don't want anyone getting hurt on my account."

"I don't want you getting hurt on any account," Amy said firmly.

Josh nodded. "They do not get to charge in here, shooting their mouths off and waving their wands, and—"

"Wands?" came a cheery voice. Conrad turned to see Mr Harris saunter into the grove, a grin on his face. Behind him, Mr Wells and his familiar overstuffed satchel seemed to be trying to disappear into the taller man's shadow. "Please tell me you guys don't fly around on broomsticks," Harris continued, "otherwise Willow's gonna track you down just to lecture you about perpetuating stereotypes."

Nobody seemed to know what to do with Harris not taking this confrontation seriously. Which was exactly how Dumbledore had operated, now Conrad came to think of it. Forcing down the lump in his throat, he resolved to demonstrate that he had learned something from the not-so-batty old man after all.

"I'm afraid they do," he said as lightly as he could manage. He indicated Potter. "He's probably the best flyer I've ever seen, if you want a demonstration."

It seemed to have the desired effect. The druids had certainly relaxed a little, even if Josh and Ste's glares were no less stern. Weasley and Granger seemed to be gobsmacked, though, and Potter looked thoroughly off-balance. "Did you just compliment me?" he asked incredulously.

Conrad forced a smile. "I think we spent enough time proving that I might be good, but you're better."

"What happened to you?" Granger asked quietly. Conrad couldn't help wincing; she always was the most perceptive of the three of them.

"That's a long story for another time," Harris said smoothly. "Conrad, you know everybody, why don't you do the introductions?"

Conrad nodded and straightened his back, trying his best to ignore his discomfort at being the centre of attention. There were at least formal words and phrases he could fall back on for times like this.

"Please allow me to introduce Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. They are possibly the most important people in the country right now. There's a prophecy that says Potter is the only one who can defeat Lord Vol-"

"No!" the Trio shouted together.

"-demort... What?"

The air suddenly filled with the sharp cracks of apparation.

******

Harry Potter was not having a good day. It had been too risky for them to have stayed put after destroying the locket, so as soon as he and Ron had recovered they had packed up the tent and apparated to the next place Hermione had picked for them.

Arriving there to find Draco bloody Malfoy of all people waiting for them did not make things better. At least Harry had his replacement wand out fast enough to stop Malfoy even trying to reach for his. Beyond that, Harry had got nowhere; none of Malfoy's answers to anyone made sense, something about his whining attitude bothered Harry, and the whole thing spiralled rapidly out of control as more and more of Malfoy's weird cronies turned up.

Then to cap it all, Malfoy said Voldemort's name. If he hadn't seen the surprise and fear on Malfoy's face as the Snatchers apparated in, he would have thought the Ferret had done it deliberately. As it was, they were surrounded by hostile wizards, hopelessly out-gunned and with no chance of getting clear enough to apparate out themselves. They certainly couldn't apparate from where they were; Harry had felt wards go up within seconds of the Snatchers' arrival.

"What?" Malfoy asked. He sounded frightened, but he'd been sounding like that since they met him.

"He jinxed his name," Harry said bitterly, not taking his eyes off the Snatchers. "Only his enemies use it, so..."

"Oh. Those are definitely bad guys." It wasn't a question, and Harry risked a glance to see that Malfoy was talking to his friends by the tree. Another pair of them were now facing each other and chanting softly, whatever that was supposed to achieve.

"Good to know," the tall American said. "You guys might want to back up towards us a little."

Harry had absolutely no intention of getting nearer to anyone Malfoy was friendly with, but one of the Snatchers chose that moment to saunter forwards. Harry found himself inching backwards towards the tree anyway, Ron and Hermione right beside him.

"Well, well, well," the Snatcher said. "If it isn't Harry Potter himself. We'll be in for a reward this time, lads, and no mistaking."

Harry just gritted his teeth, eyes searching for a way out. If they could manage to take out a few of them and make a break through the gap...

Two bodies inserted themselves firmly between Harry and the Snatchers. The youngest two of Malfoy's cronies, Harry realised. "Who are you and what do you want?" the shorter of them demanded evenly.

The Snatcher smiled. It wasn't a pretty sight. "A Muggle with a mouth on him," he said dismissively. "Drop your wand, Potter, and we won't hurt them. Much."

Harry was pretty sure that was a lie; Voldemort's minions weren't known for leaving any muggles they came across alive, never mind unharmed. He was still surprised to hear Malfoy hiss, "Don't believe them."

The Snatcher heard too. "The Malfoy boy as well. We are in the money today!"

The boys in front of him stiffened. "Right," the taller one said grimly. "That was your chance to be nice. This is your chance to leave. Bugger off now and we won't hurt you."

"Yeah, sure," the Snatcher snorted, and gestured lazily with his wand. Before Harry could even call a warning, a _cruciatus_ was headed towards the speaker.

Harry's far-too-slow counterspell died on his lips as the curse fizzled out two feet from its target. "Pretty," the boy sneered. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"You're supposed to be writhing in agony," Malfoy said. Amazingly, he sounded calmer now. "That's a nasty spell."

The shorter boy grunted. "We're done talking," he said flatly, grasping the other boy's hand. Thunder rolled round the clearing again, an ominous echo to his words, and the first drops of cold rain began to fall.

The Snatchers didn't wait for an invitation, they just started firing spells at them. Harry ducked reflexively, but everything bounced off the shield that these obviously-not-Muggles had erected. "I could get used to this," Ron said, taking one of the Snatchers out with a well-placed stunner.

Harry didn't reply. Forcing a hex out of his borrowed wand was taking more of his attention than he was really comfortable with. He almost needn't have bothered; his target, the lead Snatcher, dodged him easily and raised his wand at the young men standing patiently in front of him. " _Avada—_ "

"No!" Harry heard Malfoy yell at the same time he did, telling the boys to duck. Harry lurched towards them, hoping to at least knock them down before they discovered there was no defence to the Killing Curse.

He made a whole step towards them before the lightning strike hit the Snatcher with surgical precision. Somehow Harry managed to check himself and not collide with Malfoy's friends. When he finally blinked the bright spots out of his vision, Harry saw the man lying still on the grass, his clothing smoking gently and all the other Snatchers looking on in shock. Much as he wanted to collapse in shock himself, Harry took the opportunity to disarm one of the Snatchers. Then he turned his attention back to Malfoy's friends.

"That spell would have killed whoever it was aimed at," he said shakily. "There's no known defence against it."

The older boy raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" Harry nodded.

"So we need to finish this quickly," the younger one said.

"Before any of them think of going and getting reinforcements," Ron put in.

The boy shook his head. "Craig and John Paul have that teleport trick of yours locked down now. Nice of the bad guys to show us how to do it."

"Hey, Conrad," the American called, "these guys look pretty much useless without their wands. Is that right?"

"Yes," Malfoy's reply sounded oddly muffled. When Harry turned to look, the Slytherin was wrapped protectively around the little boy who had been with him when they arrived. Harry tried not to boggle too much, but it was disconcerting to see his old enemy looking to someone else's safety ahead of his own. Maybe he really had grown up since that night on the Astronomy Tower.

"Woah!" Harry ducked again as the ugly beam of a Killing Curse narrowly missed himself and the younger boy with him. The Snatcher responsible was promptly downed by another lightning strike. "Did you have to do that?" the boy asked his companion with some asperity.

"Nobody shoots at you and gets away with it," the older boy answered severely.

"Andrew's got an idea for winding this up," the American shouted again.

"Do it," the younger boy shouted back, "before any of them get creative."

"Yes, boss."

Harry fired another hex into the Snatchers, then looked curiously at the boy next to him. "You're the boss?" he asked.

The boy shrugged. "I was in the wrong place at the right time. I'm Josh, by the way. You're Harry, right?" Harry nodded. "We'll talk later. I reckon you still owe him an apology." He indicated Malfoy, who still seemed to be doing his best to protect the little boy despite the boy's best efforts to see what was going on.

"Maybe I do," Harry admitted. He still didn't trust Malfoy, but maybe for once he hadn't been guilty. Then again, there was plenty for Malfoy to be guilty about; he had some apologising to do as well.

Beyond Malfoy, the tall American was standing behind a shorter blond man, hands on his shoulders. The shorter man in turn was muttering something Harry couldn't hear, his left hand held to his chest while his right was held up, clutching a broken-off tree branch like some odd priest delivering a blessing. After a moment he raised his right hand higher and shouted, "Wood calls to wood!"

Suddenly Harry's stolen wand was ripped from his grasp by some unseen force. It went flying off towards the pair, as did every other wand and stick in the clearing, judging from the cries of alarm from the Snatchers. That included Harry's broken wand, which ripped its way out of the side pocket of his backpack.

"Ow!" the American said as sticks and wands pelted them from all sides. "Damnit, Andrew."

"I'm sorry," his companion wailed. "I wasn't sure it would work if I let go." He too had an American accent, Harry noticed.

"And you couldn't... No, scratch that. You made the right call, and I'm proud of you." The two of them shared a surprisingly fond look, the shorter man practically glowing at the praise.

"That's wonderful," Ron said sarcastically, "but you disarmed us as well."

"At least no one's throwing Unforgivables around any more," Harry told him. He hurried towards the growing pile of wands all the same.

"There are still a lot more of them than us," Hermione said worriedly.

None of Malfoy's friends seemed to be the slightest bit worried about this. "OK, Amy, you're up," the taller American said to the girl standing by Malfoy. "Remember, points for speed and style, points off for broken bones."

The girl nodded and sprinted towards the mass of Snatchers. Harry grabbed the first wand he came to. "We have to help..." He stopped, stared, wiped the sleet off his glasses and stared again.

"I don't think she needs help, mate," Ron said, sounding awed. Harry couldn't disagree. Amy was dancing through the disorganised Snatchers, knocking them down like ninepins.

"I never really appreciated..." the boy he'd been talking to, Josh, said.

"We were a bit busy not dying last time," his friend replied. Neither of them took their eyes off the girl as she ducked, wove and spun around the through the Snatchers.

"She's amazing," Malfoy said.

"Eh, her backhand's sloppy," the taller American said. "Not bad for a beginner, though."

"That's a beginner?" Harry sounded incredulous to himself, but he couldn't believe it. There was no way someone tearing through an entire group of Snatchers with such skill and enthusiasm could be a beginner.

The last Snatcher hit the ground and Amy bounced back over to give Malfoy a great big hug. "That was fun," she said. She didn't even seem out of breath.

Malfoy's smile was blinding, and no less shocking to Harry for looking completely genuine. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself," he told her.

The tall American coughed. It was as if he had flicked a switch inside Malfoy; the smile vanished, and Malfoy seemed to shrink inwards as if he was trying to hide in the girl's shadow. It looked ludicrous, not just because he was a good deal taller than her, but also because it was so unlike the arrogant snob Harry knew too well. What on earth had happened to him?

"So who were those guys again?" the American asked Malfoy. Malfoy looked helplessly at Harry.

"They're called Snatchers," Harry said tiredly. "The man we're trying to defeat has got the rest of the Wizarding World so scared of him that—"

"Whoa, back up," Josh said. "Wizarding World? You mean there's a whole world full of wizards out there that no one told us about?" He looked at the Americans for some reason. They just shrugged at him.

"It's supposed to be a secret," Malfoy said quietly. "There are strict penalties for doing anything that would give the secret away. Um, I think we're safe because you already know about magic."

"Yes, about that," Hermione said. "How did you perform that magic if you aren't wizards? I've never seen anyone cast wandlessly with that much power before."

"Can we get back to these Snatchers and what they were doing here, please?" one of the others asked. "Before they wake up?"

"Uh, sure." Harry struggled for a moment to remember what he had been going to say. "Like I was saying, the Dark Lord has everyone scared that if they say his name they'll attract his attention. Now he really has cast a spell to do that, since the only people willing to say his name are the ones working against him."

"And when he gets a ping, he sends a snatch squad out. Smart," the taller American said thoughtfully.

"Evil," Harry corrected.

"The worst sort."

"Aha!" Ron finally pulled his own wand out of the pile. He waved it experimentally, making sure it wasn't damaged, then pointed it at the pile. " _Accio_ Hermione's wand. _Accio_ Harry's wand."

Malfoy gasped. "Potter, your wand...?"

Harry carefully took the two pieces of holly, making sure that the slender thread of phoenix feather joining them hadn't been damaged any more by its recent mistreatment. "A Cutting Curse clipped it," he said. "I don't know how to fix it. A _reparo_ isn't good enough, I know that much." He looked at Malfoy more in hope than expectation.

Malfoy looked really scared now. Harry gave up on understanding him there and then.

"That's sad and all," Josh's companion said without the slightest trace of sympathy, "but what were you doing here in the first place? And what's with threatening Conrad?"

"Why do you keep calling him that?" Ron shot back, apparently equally unimpressed.

"Look, I'm sure that we've all got a lot to shout at each other about," one of the others said calmly. "Any chance we could do it indoors? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm getting cold."

"He's got a point," Josh said, looking at his companion. They seemed to have some kind of silent argument for a few moments until the other boy finally nodded.

"Great," the taller American said. "Now has anyone got any idea what we do with all these unconscious Snatcher guys?"

There was silence as they all looked at the slumped figures littering the glade. Eventually Ron raised his wand. "We could tie them up?" he offered.


	3. Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are explanations, some of which make sense.

Ron was confused. That wasn't so unusual, given all of the strange things that seemed to go hand in hand with being Harry Potter's best friend. Right now, though, things seemed to have gone well past strange and taken a sharp turn for the surreal. This must be what it's like for Muggle kids going to Hogwarts, he thought.

First there was Draco Malfoy being nice. To Muggles. Under an assumed name. Ron didn't even pretend to understand what the Ferret was getting out of this, but it had been made very clear to him — by Harry of all people! — that trying to get answers there and then wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Worse were Malfoy's friends. Who appeared to be Muggles, or were at least good enough at pretending to fool Harry and Hermione. And who did magic all the same, and serious magic at that. It was driving Hermione crazy, though of course not for any reason that Ron understood. She kept muttering things like "You can't just invent rituals," shortly before they apparently invented a ritual to bury most of the Snatchers under the snowy ground to keep them asleep and out of the way. According to the shorter American, Andrew, they might not be able to wake them up before spring. Ron didn't personally care if they stayed there forever, but the idea of someone making up a spell to do that that didn't even involve wands was pretty damn scary.

Worst of all was Malfoy's girlfriend, though Malfoy had turned red and stuttered through a denial when Ron had called her that. She was short, lightly built, and gave Ron the heebie-jeebies when she was anywhere nearby. The fact that she obviously didn't like them didn't help. Ron had never seen anyone fight like her. Granted, wizards didn't generally fight with their fists much when hexing your opponent was so much easier, but still. Not even Viktor Krumm, athletic as he was, moved like Amy.

At least Hermione had impressed them. She had pulled a trunk out of their stores and enchanted some extra space into it so that they could keep the last Snatcher prisoner just like Mad-Eye Moody had been. That had made Andrew very excited, until the other American, Xander — weird names these Muggles had — had very firmly made him shut up. Though why Andrew shouldn't create a Bag of Holding, whatever that was, Ron couldn't imagine.

When it was decided that they would go to Amy's house, Ron was dubious. Nice as it would be to get out of the cold, he still didn't trust these people, not if they willingly hung out with Malfoy. He was even more dubious when they arrived and discovered what Amy's house was like. Ron was used to thinking that his parents' house was small, but Amy's flat would have fitted into the ground floor of the Burrow with room to spare.

They were met by an older man carrying a baby, who took one look at them and sighed. "More strays, Amy?" he asked.

She grinned and took the baby off him. "They followed me home, Dad. Can I keep them?" Ron would have bristled, but he was distracted watching Malfoy calmly and efficiently helping the little boy — Mark — out of his coat and hat. By the time he was paying enough attention to protest, the man was reaching for his own coat.

"I'll see you later then, Ames," he said. Amy looked blank for a moment. "Your New Year's party, remember?"

"Dad! We'll be—"

"Hosting a party for a bunch of teenagers, none of whom are noted for their restraint or common sense. You were either getting us or the Ashworths, and Neville might decide to come yet."

Amy looked mortified, which Ron understood completely. He never wanted his parents to know what had gone on in some of the parties they had held in the Gryffindor Common Room. Then she suddenly turned suspicious. "Us?"

"Your mother _is_ coming." Apparently this wasn't a good thing, judging by the apprehensive look on Malfoy's face. "That's not up for negotiation, Amy. Treat it as an opportunity to introduce her to your new boyfriend."

Amy spluttered, and her father made good his escape while she protested that Malfoy wasn't her boyfriend. She sighed, bounced the baby and turned to Ste, the one who had been throwing lightning around. "Could you stick the kettle on?" she asked.

Ste nodded. "We... You haven't got enough mugs, though," he said surprisingly hesitantly for someone who had been such a determined pain in the arse earlier.

Ron brightened. "I can help with that," he said, fishing out his wand. Household spells for making do were practically second nature. He followed Ste into the kitchen and set about duplicating mugs.

"Handy," Ste commented. "Can you do that to food too?"

"Yeah," Ron sighed, "but it tastes like cardboard. Also these will vanish in a couple of hours, which is even less fun with food than it sounds." Which of course hadn't stopped the twins experimenting with it endlessly, usually on Ron.

Ste fiddled with a tall jug, apparently what passed for a kettle amongst Muggles since Ron soon heard the familiar hiss of heating water. "So..." Ste said, then paused.

"Yeah," Ron agreed unhelpfully. He had so many questions he didn't know where to start either.

"How long have you known about magic?" Ste blurted out.

"My whole life. All of my family are wizards, so I grew up with it. All this," he indicated the kettle, and all the other Muggle stuff in the kitchen, "is new to me." Ste looked sceptical. Ron took that as permission to press on. "No, really. I mean, how does that heat the water?"

"No idea," Ste said. "I just turn it on." He looked awkward and annoyed, kind of like how Ron felt whenever he got picked on by a teacher to answer questions in class. Belatedly it occurred to him that Ste might feel much the same about Muggle things like kettles.

The awkward silence was broken by Xander bustling in and dumping a bag on the kitchen table. It looked like that Muggle plastic stuff, and Ron drifted over in the hope of getting a better look.

"I got more tea and coffee," Xander said, pulling boxes and bottles out of the bag. Definitely plastic, Ron thought. "It's not like Giles will notice it in the expenses budget, plus I know Amy doesn't have enough... Oh. Where did you get the mugs from?"

Ste nodded at Ron. "He magicked them up."

"Really? How does that work? No, never mind, I wouldn't understand the answer anyway. Expect Josh and Andrew to start an inquisition any minute, though."

Ron dragged his attention from the sight of _actual polly-steering cups._ "Huh?"

"Nothing. Could you see how many teas and coffees we need?"

Ten minutes later, Ron was sitting on the floor next to Hermione and leaning up again Harry's chair, mug of tea in hand. It was time for some explanations.

"So," Xander said from his perch on the arm of the sofa when everyone was settled. "There's a lot for us to talk about, but I guess top of the list is this Dork Lord you guys are up against. What can you tell us about him?"

It took a while. Harry gave them a potted history of Voldemort's various attempts on his life, with Ron and Hermione chipping in every now and then. "It's all because of this prophecy," Harry finished bitterly.

Xander and Andrew winced, to Ron's surprise. "Prophecies suck," Xander said sympathetically. "You spend your whole time trying to work out what they mean, and in the end it's never what you think. On the plus side, it's never what the bad guys think either. I swear the Powers just enjoy jerking us around."

"You sound awfully blasé about You-Know-Who trying to kill Harry," Hermione observed.

Xander shrugged. "Probably because I spent most of my teenage years trying not to be killed by various supernatural nasties. You get used to it, I guess. Do you know what your prophecy says?"

"Yes," Harry said grimly, "and You-Know-Who doesn't. He only knows the first part." Taking a deep breath, Harry recited the prophecy. Ron couldn't help but shiver at the final line: "Neither can live while the other survives."

"Well, that's cheery," Xander said into the silence that followed. "We can see if there's anything helpful in the Council archives. So what's this guy up to when he's not trying to kill teenagers?"

"Attacking Muggles, non-magical people," Hermione said. "Or at least sending his Death Eater minions out to do it for him." Ron glared at Malfoy. He at least had no intention of forgetting who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

Andrew frowned. "Would these minions be wearing masks and cloaks?" he asked.

"Robes, yeah," Ron corrected. "Purebloods do like their traditions." He glared at Malfoy again, a wasted effort since the other boy seemed to be trying to shrink into his chair anyway.

"Why?" Josh asked. "If wizards are supposed to be a secret, what's the point of the attacks? Someone's bound to suspect something eventually."

"It keeps his supporters happy," Malfoy said quietly, surprising Ron yet again. "A lot of the old families think that being a wizard automatically makes you superior, particularly if your ancestors were wizards as far back as anyone can trace. They look on Muggles as vermin, getting in the way of real people. Going out and hunting Muggles is only right and just to them."

"It's worse than that," Harry said. "Tom— I mean You-Know-Who's father was a Muggle, and he didn't react well to discovering his wife was a witch. Young Tom ended up in an orphanage, and pretty much all he learned there was to hate people. He wants to kill Muggles because he can, and the more scared they are, the better."

"Like a terrorist?" the man who had been introduced as Jake asked. Harry and Hermione nodded; Ron took a wild guess at what he meant and nodded too.

"So the attacks really are random, just to cause fear and confusion," Xander said. "Willow was tearing her hair out trying to find a pattern." He shared a look with Andrew.

"I'd better phone the Council," Andrew said. He sounded a bit uncertain, which didn't reassure Ron at all.

"Nah, I'll do it," Xander said breezily. "Willow won't argue so much with me. Besides, you do the Speech better than I do."

"Excuse me?" Hermione raised her hand, for all the world like she was still in a classroom. "What is this Council? We can't just go telling everyone about this, the Statute of Secrecy still applies."

"That would be my cue to get out of here and let Andrew explain," Xander said, standing up and fishing a small flat box out of his pocket.

Andrew pulled himself up straight as Xander left the room. "We are part of the International Watchers Council," he said importantly. Josh coughed. "Er, that is, Xander and Amy and I are. It is our job to watch out for supernatural threats and deal with them wherever they arise. You see, in the beginning, the world was not a paradise..."

By the end of the explanation, Ron's head was spinning. Apparently there were worse things out there than his DADA lessons had even hinted at, which was alarming enough. Then a bunch of Muggles had not only discovered that the old bogey-man story of the Slayer was real, but had turned one magically-empowered warrior into an entire army of girls. It made sense of the way Amy had knocked down the Snatchers, but the amount of magic involved... "But that's impossible," he protested weakly.

"That's us, doing the impossible," Xander said cheerfully as he squeezed back into the little living room. "We've got the researchers on this, as much as they're doing anything today, but I don't honestly expect anyone to come up from London until they get over their hangovers tomorrow. It would help if we had a target to point the girls at."

Harry looked as dumb-founded as Ron felt. "Just like that," he said.

"Yeah, well, New Year," Xander explained. "What can you do?"

"No, I mean you're helping us just like that?"

Justin, the one who didn't seem to like Malfoy, pointed at Harry lazily. "You have a supernatural problem," he said. He pointed at Xander. "He's a supernatural problem-solver, a fact we're all really grateful for."

Xander grinned and bowed. "Besides, Conrad vouched for you."

Ron looked at Malfoy, and went with the question that had been bothering him all day. "Why do you keep calling him that?"

"It's the name he gave us," Jake said. He looked tense. "More than that you don't need to know."

"Really," Justin added. "I don't like him much and I still think you don't need to know."

"But..." Ron looked at Malfoy again, really looked, and couldn't continue. He looked so small, so defeated, so unlike the braggart Ron knew and hated.

"I don't deserve my name," Malfoy whispered.

"No," Harry replied gravely, "I think maybe your name doesn't deserve you. Whatever happened, you're a better man than you were."

Ron wasn't at all convinced of that, but it went down well with Malfoy's friends. Malfoy himself didn't seem so sure. "But I didn't do anything," he protested.

"Yes you did," Hermione put in. "You stopped us fighting. You protected... Mark, is it? You protected Mark and Amy when you thought we might hurt them. The old Draco wouldn't have done any of those things." Malfoy coloured and wouldn't look up.

"What I don't understand," Hermione continued to the rest of the room, "is how all of you were doing magic at all, never mind so much of it."

"We're druids," Josh said almost off-handedly. Ron had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Apparently Hermione did.

"That's impossible," she said. "The druids died out in 60 AD when the Romans invaded Anglesey with the aid of their Mercurian magicians, the ones who eventually became modern wizards." Ron looked at her blankly, having no idea what she was talking about. "Honestly, Ron, didn't you pay any attention in History of Magic?"

"Um, no?"

That at least got a laugh out of the others, even if it made Hermione scowl at him. "The point is that there haven't been any druids for nearly two thousand years."

"There haven't been," Josh agreed easily, "but now there are. And you turned up unexpectedly in the middle of our grove."

"We were just looking for somewhere out of the way to hide," Hermione told him, not the slightest bit apologetic. "If we had known the place had a magical signature we wouldn't have gone anywhere near it."

"We wouldn't?" Ron asked.

"Too obvious," Harry said. "You-Know-Who is bound to look at magical places eventually. Anything that could give him a bit more power."

Josh looked across at Andrew. "We need to hide the Grove better," he said.

Craig stirred in the chair he was sharing way too closely with, um, John Paul? Something like that. Ron was glad he had a good memory for names, but there were limits.

"I think we might be OK with that," Craig said when Josh looked at him. "You know how Jake said people tend to get turned around whenever they wander into the trees?" The locals all nodded; Ron guessed they must mean some kind of aversion spell. "Well, I think we might have encouraged it to do the same with apparating — that's what you call it, right?"

Ron and Harry both nodded. "What do you mean, encouraged?" Harry asked.

"When we put together the ritual to stop those guys apparating out, we beefed up the turn-around effect as well so they wouldn't be able to run away." Craig said sheepishly. "When we stopped, some of it... stuck?"

"Unwanted visitors will end up in the trees rather than the clearing," John Paul translated. "They won't be able to find a way in any more than normal people can."

"That won't keep out a determined wizard forever," Ron observed.

"No, but it will give us time to get there." Josh leaned back against Ste and looked thoughtful. "Do you think we could figure out how to apparate for ourselves?"

"I think we've done enough experimenting with magic for one day," Xander said firmly. "We're lucky everyone still has all their limbs attached."

"But..." Andrew subsided into silence under Xander's glare. Ron got the impression that Andrew was rather like Seamus; more enthusiasm than sense.

There was an awkward silence, then Amy said, "So what are we going to do with you three then?" She didn't say it threateningly, but Ron couldn't help reaching for his wand. They had been deceived too many times recently for him not to worry. Fortunately Amy didn't seem to notice. "I mean, we don't have any more bedrooms here, and no one else has any space either. I'd offer you the sofa, but there's a party here tonight."

"We've got a tent," Ron blurted out. All this matter-of-fact helpfulness they were getting was making him nervous.

Amy frowned. "I don't know where you could pitch a three-man tent," she said. "They don't allow them in the park."

"It would fit in your garden," Harry explained before Ron could. "No one will notice it anyway once Hermione finishes warding it."

"Won't you be a bit squashed in that little space?" Ste asked, glancing out of the window at the tiny back garden.

"It's bigger on the inside," Ron said, a little confused. Weren't all tents like that?

"Like a TARDIS," Andrew said, nodding. He was trying not to sound excited and failing miserably. Ron had no clue what he was talking about.

Harry laughed. "It's not that big," he said. What's a tardis, Ron wanted to ask, but Xander interrupted.

"No, Andrew."

"But..."

"No. It cannot end well. Besides, they don't have police call boxes in this country any more."

Everybody else was grinning, including Harry and Hermione, except for Malfoy who seemed just as confused as Ron. "Erm...?"

"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione said, "it's not important."

Amy struggled to control her snickering, something that did not endear her to Ron. "You'd better start getting that tent up and hidden, then," she said. "Sasha could be round any time."

"Who... wait, here?"

"Yes, here. Just because it isn't her party doesn't mean she won't try to organise it."

"I think they were talking about where to pitch the tent," Josh said, grinning. Amy looked embarrassed.

"That's a very kind offer," Hermione said. She stood up, nudging Ron with her foot. He scrambled upright, knowing she'd only get less subtle if he stayed there. "We'll do that right away. Then maybe we can help you with your party too."

Ron rolled his eyes. Typical, he thought. They hadn't been here an hour and already Hermione was trying to take over. He looked at Harry, who was frantically shaking his head and mouthing "No," to Amy.

Amy smiled evilly. "That's a great idea," she said. "And we've got all these big strong men to help us, too."

"Run for your lives," Xander told the others.


	4. New Year And All's Well-ish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's Eve, and all's partying.

Michaela McQueen was having less fun than she ought to at Amy's party, at least in her opinion. First off, Amy's parents were there. Michaela loved Mike and Kathy, but parents at a party? Always a disaster. Nobody could possibly have fun when they knew they were being watched.

Then there was the kid. Somehow in the process of switching boyfriends yet again (and Michaela still hadn't got the full gossip on that), Amy had managed to acquire a nine-year-old kid. Who was currently alternating between hiding shyly from strangers — meaning everybody — and running around on a sugar high. Either way he was a right royal pain, and Michaela would be quite happy never to see the brat again.

Amy's mysterious new boyfriend Conrad was no fun either. He was pale, thin and terminally quiet. Seriously, Michaela was beginning to think she had to torture words out of him, he was that quiet. Nice as it was not to be interrupted all the time, he wasn't exactly giving her anything to work with.

"So how did you meet Amy, then?" she asked, hoping that would get him talking.

Unfortunately that just seemed to make him panic. "At a club," he blurted out.

"What, the Loft?" Michaela frowned. She didn't remember seeing Conrad around the village before, but she could easily imagine him hiding away in a dark corner somewhere.

Conrad shook his head vigorously. "No, it was in town."

"Oh, any good?"

"Horrible," he said vehemently enough to make Michaela cross the nameless club off her list of places to check out. Then he smiled a little. "Amy decided I shouldn't be there and dragged me out. I'd have stayed and been miserable otherwise."

"I've never seen the point in that," Michaela said blithely. "I mean, who wants to be miserable?"

"The owner's gone anyway. Maybe it'll get better." He didn't sound terribly enthusiastic about the idea, though. Michaela decided to move on to more interesting topics.

"Your friends look proper lush," she said, looking at the group standing awkwardly by the snacks.

Conrad looked puzzled. "Lush?" he asked.

"You know, a bit of alright. Good looking," Michaela tried when that didn't seem to help either. She gave him a sly nudge. "I don't suppose any of them are looking for a girlfriend?" To be honest, she would have preferred to go out with Nige rather than Conrad's stuck-up looking friends, but he'd disappeared after Amy had kicked him out.

Conrad still looked bemused. "Lush," he repeated, then shook his head. "Wea... er, Ron and Hermione have been together since forever, though they won't admit it."

"And the other one?" Michaela prompted. She was more interested in people who might be interested in her back. Besides, she had spotted the scar on his forehead, which she reckoned made him look proper hard.

Conrad shrugged. "Harry? There's always girls throwing themselves at him." He sounded disgusted, Michaela was intrigued to note; then he seemed to catch himself and shrink a bit. "I mean, I don't think he's got a regular girlfriend. I don't really know."

Curiouser and curiouser, Michaela thought. Her inner journalist sat up and took note. "You don't like him much, do you?" she asked.

He grimaced. "He's popular, good-looking, and we always ended up on the opposite sides of arguments. It turns out he was right."

Sounds like a right smug git, Michaela thought, though she managed not to say anything out loud. She studied this Harry more intently with eyes used to probing her big brother for signs of weakness. He was talking to Sasha, but he didn't look comfortable doing it. It was like he wanted to back off and run away or something. "Maybe he's gay?" she asked.

Conrad laughed. "Oh, that's... That would be..." He looked over at Harry and burst out laughing again.

Conrad's red-headed friend Ron appeared beside them, looking annoyed. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"She asked me if P— Harry was gay," Conrad managed eventually. "I just imagined how the girls would react." He started snickering again.

Ron tried to look unamused. Michaela wasn't convinced. "There would be crying," Ron admitted. "And accusations."

"Or denial. 'He just needs the right woman,'" Conrad finished on a wobbly falsetto. Ron guffawed.

"There's no need to be sarky about it," Michaela said, miffed. Maybe the guy wasn't gay, but there was no call for laughing at her. When the boys managed to look at her seriously for less than a second before they started snickering again, she stalked off in annoyance.

A small hand tugged at her sleeve. "Hello, I'm Mark," the little kid said. He was practically vibrating with enthusiasm, Michaela thought sourly. "Can I try some of your drink?"

Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to let him have some, it occurred to Michaela. After all, if he got drunk and Amy sent him to bed, at least the little monster would be out of her hair. "Alright," she said with a grin that would have done a shark proud. She held her glass low so the kid could take it off her without being too obvious. "Just a sip, mind you." And if that didn't ensure he swallowed a good mouthful, nothing would.

Before Mark could take a drink, an arm snaked between them and plucked the glass out of his hand. "Ah-hah," Ste said warningly. "You know you aren't allowed to have adults' drinks."

"Hey, that's mine," Michaela protested. She glared at Ste, for all the good it did.

Josh appeared on her other side. "So how did Mark get hold of it then?" he asked mildly.

"I just wanted to taste it," Mark whined, saving Michaela from having to think of an answer. "Please?"

"Remember that talk we had about how there's some things your body isn't ready for yet?" Ste told the boy. Mark nodded and, inexplicably, brightened. "Well," Ste continued, "this is one of them."

Mark's face fell. "But it'll be _years_ before I can have any," he protested.

Josh knelt to give him a quick hug. "If you drink much while you're still growing, it could hurt you," he said in that same mild, infuriating voice.

"It never did me any harm," Michaela snapped at him. She didn't count hangovers.

"There's two opinions on that," Ste snarked.

Josh looked up at him. "Do I need to separate you two?" he asked. Michaela found his smile a bit disturbing.

"You could distract him with kissing," Mark offered.

Ste smiled back at Josh. "That would work," he allowed.

"I think they like each other," Mark said in a stage whisper.

Michaela took one look at the sickeningly lovey-dovey display of affection in front of her and shuddered. "Oh God, don't you two start," she said feelingly. "Bad enough I have to put up with John Paul and Craig holding hands and staring into each other's eyes, I don't need you two doing it as well." From the look on the kid's face, Mark agreed with her.

"We're nothing like as bad as those two," Ste said defensively.

Josh smiled again. "Maybe we need more practise?" he suggested.

Ste actually appeared to consider this. Michaela rolled her eyes. "Kill me now," she pleaded.

"Maybe later," Ste said cheerily. "First, someone needs to apologise to Amy for trying to scrounge a drink."

Before Michaela could object they were off, even with the kid dragging his heels. With Michaela's drink, she belatedly realised. "Well, that's just brilliant," she told the room in general.

"Here Mics, you look like you need this."

"Mike, you're a life-saver." Michaela practically grabbed the cup out of Amy's Dad's hand and took a big swig. Sadly the hoped-for vodka and orange contained no vodka. Not that there was much chance of that with Kathy standing right there, but there was always hope.

"I don't understand those two," Kathy said, staring after Josh and Ste.

"Join the club," Michaela muttered in disgust. She shot a baleful glance at the presumably alcoholic drink Mike handed to his wife.

"They've grown up, love," Mike said. "They've all grown up. Present company excepted, of course."

"Thank you," Michaela said tartly. She wasn't entirely sure whether to be pleased or annoyed, but sarcasm was rarely the wrong answer.

"But... those two?" Kathy sounded confused, and Michaela couldn't blame her. The speed that Josh and Ste had gone from hating each other to playing tonsil hockey was downright unnatural.

Mike sighed. "I know. I didn't believe it either but you saw them just now. I think they're good for each other. They've certainly been doing a lot of good lately."

"Good? Mike, one of them got our daughter pregnant and the other one tried to bash your brains out!"

"After I'd scared him out of his mind," Mike said. Michaela was surprised at how sad he sounded about that; she would have laid money that Mike Barnes would have carried that grudge to his grave.

"Those boys have been through a lot in the last couple of weeks," Mike continued, "and they've been through it together."

"They still left Amy in the lurch, though," Kathy said disapprovingly.

"Eh," Michaela disagreed, "she's got that Conrad now." Not that her best friend needed looking after the way Kathy seemed to think, but it was the principle of the thing.

"And what do we know about him?"

"That he would do absolutely anything for Amy," Mike told Kathy firmly. "Do we really need to know any more than that? Besides..." He hesitated, piquing Michaela's interest. "She's grown up too, love. She can more than look after herself. It's not an exaggeration to say there's people that owe their lives to our Amy." Michaela wondered what Amy might be involved in to make Mike say that. It was probably all Ste's fault, whatever it was; drug dealing or robbery or something dodgy like that.

"Look at her now," Mike continued. Amy was dancing with Conrad in the centre of the room, looking as happy as Michaela had ever seen her. Conrad looked disgustingly besotted, and Michaela wondered if he was one of the people who owed Amy. She could give him a proper interview later, she thought; this could be the big break she had been waiting for! She'd have to change the names of course, but if this really was as interesting as Mike implied...

Amy stopped all of a sudden, said something to Conrad, and headed towards the bedroom. "She can't possibly have heard Leah," Kathy said.

Mike chuckled. "I seem to remember someone else claiming she could hear her baby crying through a crowded room."

"Yes... but..."

"She's a mother, love. She's got good at it too, from what I've seen."

Kathy looked gobsmacked. Michaela didn't know why; her mother always seemed to know what she was up to, even halfway across the village. Maybe it only worked when you were trying to skive off?

"What's left for us?" Kathy asked sadly.

"Being grandparents." Mike grinned. "We get to have all the fun, then give them back at the end of the day. No more smelly nappies or tantrums at bedtime."

"But I liked changing nappies," Kathy protested wistfully.

"And that I will never understand," Mike told her. "Come on; you round up the little 'un and I'll give Conrad some moral support."

Conrad did indeed look a bit panicky to Michaela, as if no one had ever successfully kept an eye on a party for five minutes before. She turned to say something sarky to Mike about it, but he and Kathy had already gone leaving her alone with a depressingly teetotal glass of orange juice.

Well, wasn't that interesting, she thought. Something was going on, something involving saving lives, and Amy was right in the middle of it. It was her journalistic duty to find out what, in as much detail as possible. She owed it to her future readership.

Now, where had that bottle of vodka gone?

******

New Year's Eve at the _Dog in the Pond_ was mad. There was still most of an hour to midnight and Jake was already knackered. He and Justin had done the bulk of the work behind the bar while his mother made sure Jack didn't do anything that might aggravate his heart condition like, well, anything.

Having Darren there would have helped, but Jake understood why his step-brother didn't feel welcome. They had run into each other before the evening started, and Darren had looked as desperate as Jake had ever seen him. He was apparently trying to raise the cash to buy his half of the _Dog_ back off Warren the only way he knew how, by gambling. Jake had been surprised at how much he had managed to raise already.

Justin had been surprised that Darren intended to use everything he had raised so far as a stake. "Isn't that a bit risky?" he had asked.

"You have to take the risks to win," Darren had said. Neither Jake nor Justin had liked the look in his eyes.

"You don't have to take all the risks," Justin had pointed out. "Jack would be happy just to get something."

"He won't be happy until Warren Fox has no say in his pub anymore," Darren had retorted. "I caused the problem, it's up to me to fix it."

Something about the way he said that had bothered Jake. "How much of this is about making it up to Jack, and how much is it the rush you get from gambling?"

That had stopped Darren. "I'm not... I don't... This isn't about me."

"It's all about you," Jake had said as gently as he could. "You said it yourself; this is your problem to fix. Only you don't have to fix it all in one go."

"Or all on your own either," Justin had chipped in, picking up on Jake's point quickly. "We may not be able to help much with the money, but we can back you up."

In the end they had persuaded Darren to leave most of his winnings with his girlfriend and just take a modest stake with him to the casino. Jake wasn't at all sure he trusted Jess with the money, not when she was both broke and used to being pampered, but Darren had got stubborn. He wasn't going to give Jack any of the money until he had all of it.

"Good luck, then," Jake had said, "and for God's sake listen to your instincts more. You knew taking all the money was a bad plan as much as we did, didn't you?" Darren had just snorted and left, making Jake wonder if he had just managed to break the uneasy peace between them. Again.

"I feel sorry for him really," he confided across the bar to Xander during a brief lull. "I don't think he had shaken off the Grove's screwed-up influence when he lost his share of the pub. If we knew a ritual to bring him luck, it would only be fair to use it for him."

"Don't even think about trying to invent one," Xander advised. "I'm not happy when Andrew and Josh do it, and between them they have half a chance of getting it right. The rest of us, not so much. Besides even if it worked, he sounds like the sort of guy who would start relying on his luck, and that can get you very dead."

"True." Jake spent a moment wiping down the counter reflectively. "If there's a way to screw up, Darren will find it."

"Eh, you never know. Fixing the Grove might help with that." Fat chance, Jake thought as Xander took a sip of his beer. You couldn't blame everything on the village having been soaked in twisted magic. Darren was just a screw-up, he didn't need any more explanation than that.

"So what's up with Smiler this evening?" Xander added.

Jake glared over to where Warren was playing the charming host, a broad smile on his face that had no genuine warmth behind it. "Just winding Mum up, I guess. Don't let him hear you call him that, though."

"No sense of humour, huh?"

"Not when it comes to his pride, no."

"Huh." Xander digested that for a moment. "He's spending a lot of time watching Justin," he commented.

Jake sighed. "They've got history," he said. He didn't really want to rehash Justin's murky past, but Xander struck him as the sort of person who would just keep asking until someone told him what he wanted to know. It wasn't like there was a shortage of people in the village who still hated Justin's guts.

"Justin wasn't popular when he finished school. Warren was pretty much the only person who would give him the time of day. It didn't take long before Warren had him running around like a good little minion, getting too involved in dodgy deals to even think about backing out.

"Then Justin fell for Katie, Warren's little sister, and of course he wasn't good enough in Warren's eyes. Warren couldn't do more than threaten while they were together, but once they split up he didn't waste any time making Justin's life miserable."

Xander frowned. "It's not that," he said, "or at least it's not just that. He's looking calculating, like he knows something and he's figuring out how to use it."

"We haven't done anything anywhere near him," Jake said rapidly. Thinking about using magic to keep his step-father alive didn't count. "Well, we've held hands and maybe kissed a bit," he continued when Xander raised an eyebrow, "but we've done that in front of everyone."

"So he's figuring out how to use Justin to get at you, then," Xander guessed. He snickered. "He's probably driving himself crazy trying to figure out what hold Jay's got over you."

Jake didn't smile. "If he thinks he can use Justin and get away with it, he's got another thing coming."

"Down, boy!" Jake didn't appreciate the grin Xander was sending him. Xander predictably ignored the glare he returned. "He hasn't done anything yet. Maybe he won't."

"Maybe pigs will fly," Jake retorted. "Warren isn't the sort of person to let an advantage go. Or a grudge for that matter."

"Just don't do anything hasty, OK? You've got a lot of backup if you need it," Xander reminded him.

Jake snorted. Xander could be very scary, but he was just one man and Warren didn't scare easily. And Warren had some very scary friends... but then so did Xander. So did Jake, for that matter, if the other druids decided to get pissed off. And that was without stirring up his family, the McQueens, the Ashcrofts, the Barnses... "Wow," he said after a moment's reflection on the sheer number of people he could at least ask for help.

Xander just grinned some more.

Jake shook his head and moved to serve the next person up to the bar. Before he could even greet Zak, the pub door swung open to reveal a wild-eyed Darren. Jake's heart sank.

Xander quickly slipped behind the bar. "Jay and I can hold the fort," he said, "you deal with the family drama."

By the time Jake managed to get out from behind the bar and push through the crowd, Darren had made his way to Jack. Jack took one look at his son and sighed. "Oh Darren, what have you done now?"

"I won," Darren said. He sounded shocked but happy, not at all what Jake was expecting. "I won it back. I..." He turned and gave Jake a blinding smile. "I trusted my instincts."

"Darren, what are you talking about?" Jack asked.

Darren lifted a hold-all onto the table and unzipped it to reveal crisp bundles of notes. Lots of crisp bundles of notes. Jake sat down on a nearby stool before his legs gave way. "You won that much in one night?" he asked faintly.

Darren gave him another wild grin. "I was in the zone," he said. "I just knew what was going to drop where, and I went with it, and..." He trailed off, gesturing at the money.

"That's incredible," Jack said. He shot a quick, suspicious look at Jake, who held up his hands defensively. There was no magic involved in this, at least not as far as he knew.

"Hey, Warren," Darren called, completely missing the by-play. "You said I could buy back my half of the _Dog_ for a hundred grand, right?"

Warren sauntered over, smirking. "Yeah, and where are you going to get that kind of money from?" he sneered.

Darren smugly pulled the bag open so that Warren could see the money. "There's eighty thousand there," he said. "I've texted Jess, she should have the last twenty here soon."

Zak, who was passing by laden with drinks, paused. "She isn't here already?" he asked. Darren gave him a puzzled look. "She looked so excited earlier, we all assumed you'd asked her to move in."

"What?" Jake asked. He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what had happened.

"Why would you think that?" Darren asked.

Zak frowned. "She was packed and everything, I thought she was just waiting for you to pick her up."

"She's run off with the money," Jake groaned.

"No, she wouldn't," Darren protested weakly.

Jake and Zak shared a look. Jess was well known for being a poor little princess, with a credit card that had only run out once the police did her father for fraud. The only question was whether she would think twenty thousand pounds was enough to run off with.

"Sounds like you're not all there," Warren to Darren. "As usual."

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said. He clapped an arm around his son and gave Warren the fakest smile Jake had seen in a while. "Twenty thousand's a lot easier to raise than a hundred thousand. You'll have your money within the week."


	5. Interrogations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enemies and friends are variously interrogated.

Michaela paid for the bread and milk she'd been sent to the _Drive'N'Buy_ for, and gave Rhys Ashworth a measuring look. "You're still hung over," she announced.

"And you're surprisingly sober for New Year's Day," Rhys snarked back. Quietly. Bloodshot eyes did not look good on him, Michaela decided. Still, if he was that busy nursing a hangover, he might let slip something interesting about Josh, and maybe even Amy.

"So, bit of a surprise about your Josh," she tried.

Rhys gratifyingly rose to the bait. "Don't start," he said. "I have to share a room with them."

Michaela thought briefly about asking if he had pictures. "Him and Ste, though," she said instead. "I never saw that coming."

"First I knew about it was waking up to see the two of them kissing," Rhys agreed. "Although..."

"Go on," Michaela demanded.

"You know Josh was... ill a week before Christmas?"

"Yes," Michaela said quickly. She'd heard no such thing, but the way Rhys hesitated made it sound significant.

Rhys gave her a look, but winced and rubbed his eyes again. "The two of them kind of had to not argue while all that was happening. I guess that must have been when they decided they were soul mates, or whatever it is they are. Don't ask me, I don't even pretend to know what Josh is going on about half the time."

"Soul mates? Seriously?" From Josh, Michaela could entirely believe such a soppy, sentimental piece of rubbish. Josh always went into everything head first, completely committed no matter how little sense it made. Ste wasn't like that at all, wanting to know what advantage there was for him in anything. If he was spouting romantic nonsense, he was up to something.

Except Mike Barnes seemed to approve of whatever was going on, and not just because neither of the boys was dating Amy anymore. Michaela's head was beginning to hurt.

Rhys didn't seem to be in any better state. "Like I said," he replied, "I've got no idea. If I didn't know better, I'd swear they were on drugs. Ask him if you want to be bored to tears, or the weirdo American."

"The guy with the eye-patch?" She'd seen Amy with that man, and had heard he was an American.

Rhys nodded. "Xander Harris. Though he's not wearing the eye-patch anymore."

"Huh. I wonder what happened there," Michaela mused.

"His eye got better," a voice said from behind her. She practically jumped round to see her brother standing behind her, grinning.

"Don't do that," she said, slapping at John Paul's chest. "You nearly scared me to death. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Mum was starting to worry that you'd fallen over and broken your leg. Seriously, how long does it take to buy a loaf of bread and two pints of milk?" John Paul asked sarkily. Michaela stuck out her tongue at him. "Besides, I've got some shopping of my own to do. Rhys, have you got any candles?"

"What do you want with candles?" Michaela demanded.

"Craig and I have plans." John Paul waggled his eyebrows suggestively, looking smug.

"Say no more," Rhys said, sounding disgusted. "I'm serious, any more of this lovey-dovey stuff and I'm likely to throw up on someone."

"Oh, sounds like someone's been dumped," Michaela said unsympathetically. Normally Rhys was the one doing the dumping. He'd had a lot of practise at it too.

Rhys gave her a thoroughly ineffectual sneer and stalked off, presumably to find some candles. Michaela and John Paul looked after him thoughtfully. "Something's up there," John Paul mused.

"Too right," Michaela agreed quietly. "Everyone's acting weird all of a sudden."

"And that's different from normal how?" John Paul asked with a slightly unconvincing grin. "Get on home, Mics, Mum's gasping for a cuppa. I'll see if Rhys will talk to me, or maybe Hannah."

Sure, Michaela thought as she left the shop. She was pretty sure there was something her brother wasn't saying about all this strange behaviour. For that matter, she still didn't know how he had known that Niall was their brother, and she could usually pester John Paul into giving something away.

What on earth was going on, she wondered, to make her family act even weirder than normal?

******

"Have I missed anything?"

Amy was moderately certain that Mr Harris knew exactly what he had missed, particularly since Mr Wells had been one of the people doing it. He, Josh, Ste and Craig had spent the morning figuring out how to stop wizards appearing and disappearing from her flat, and if there was one thing Mr Harris was very good at, it was avoiding doing magic.

The three wizards had wandered in fairly late from their tent that morning. The boys had cheerfully taken Amy up on her offer of breakfast, while Hermione had been drawn into the druids' discussion and was soon flinging around terms like "natural boundaries" and "polymorphic resonance" with the rest of them. Amy would have thought they were making it up if Conrad hadn't assured her they were talking some sort of sense.

There was still a lot of tension between the wizards and Conrad, or Draco if they were to be believed. Amy wasn't entirely sure what she felt about that. She found it hard to reconcile the shy, quiet man she knew with the brash, snobbish bully even he confessed he had been. He had changed so much, and she resented the way the others still seemed to react to the old him. Conrad himself seemed to be slightly in shock that they were talking to him at all, and accepted the barbed comments and venomous looks as his due.

"I did my level best to ruin everything Potter did," he had explained while they had been clearing up the party debris. "I hated him for picking Weasley over me. He was right, though; I was a spoiled brat, and I had no idea how wrong I was."

"But you've changed," she had insisted.

He gave her a nod and a sad little smile. "Now I know how much I owe them."

Owed or not, the wizards were at least trying to pretend that they hadn't hated Conrad for years, even if they weren't all that successful. By the time Josh had completed his ritual, which involved carrying the candles John Paul arrived with into every corner of her flat and chanting in a frankly creepy unison, they had even helped clear up the last of the debris and kept Mark entertained while he couldn't be sat in front of the TV.

Hermione had barely declared her satisfaction with the results when Mr Harris made his suspiciously well-timed arrival. Amy glared at him, to no good effect. Mr Wells's knowing smile as Josh enthused about their latest ritual seemed to work a lot better.

"Right," Harris said once things calmed down. "Now we know he can't get out, why don't we start asking our pet Snatcher some tough questions? He's been stewing for long enough."

"Here?" Amy asked dubiously. She was happy to put up with guests, especially guests who came with their own tent, but an interrogation was something else entirely.

Harris gave her an apologetic look. "I'm looking for somewhere permanent as a Slayer Central, but right now this is the only place we've got. We can't do this with the other guys' families around."

They couldn't do it with her family around either, Amy thought. "What about Leah? Or Mark?" Harris had the grace to look sheepish.

Conrad stuck his hand up. "I could take them out for a walk?" he suggested diffidently.

"We'll probably need you for translating Wizard to English. No offence," Harris said, nodding in the direction of the other wizards.

"None taken," Harry said mildly, despite having just elbowed Ron quite hard.

"I take it dropping them round to your Dad is out?" Harris asked.

"Mum does not get anywhere near Leah when I'm not there to stop her doing something stupid," Amy said firmly.

"We could take them out," Craig offered. "Leah could have a play with Charlie, I bet she'd like that."

"But I want to stay and listen," Mark complained.

"Jack could tell you stories about when he was a policeman," John Paul suggested smoothly.

Mark paused. "Are they good stories?" he asked cautiously.

Craig laughed. "Very good stories," he promised. "Jack is the best storyteller."

"Even better than Mr Wells?"

"I think we have our answer," Harris said wryly, ignoring the smug look Mr Wells shot him.

"Are you sure your mum won't mind?" Amy asked Craig. She didn't know Mrs Osborne well, but anyone who had been in the village during Craig and John Paul's first go-round knew that she had one hell of a temper.

Craig grinned. "An excuse to make Jack sit down and not do anything stressful? She'll love it. She'll probably give you an open invitation to bring the kids over any time."

The next five minutes were a whirl of coats, scarves and mittens. By the time they left, John Paul still trying to explain what a policeman was, the wizards had retrieved the trunk they had locked the Snatcher in and set it in the middle of the living room. Everyone sat and stared at it.

"Well, we're not going to get any answers like this," Harris said eventually. Amy tensed, but all that happened when he flipped the lid open was that the sound of swearing filled the room.

Hermione waved her wand at the trunk and muttered something. After a moment the Snatcher floated out of the box and was deposited on the floor beside it, still swearing. Amy was slightly disappointed to see he was still securely tied up — apparently wizards really were useless once you got their wands off them.

"Handy spell," Josh said appreciatively. "How—?"

"Not the time," Ste interrupted. He turned to the Snatcher. "OK you, shut up and listen."

The Snatcher didn't shut up, choosing instead to get creative insulting Ste's ancestry. Ste smacked him one. Hard, Amy was pleased to note. "You've seen what happens to people who piss me off," Ste said while the guy was recovering, his voice low and dangerous. "If you want to keep breathing, you're going to tell us everything we want to know, and you're going to do it politely. Cos you know what? I'm not the scariest person here."

"Go fuck yourself, you Muggle-loving—" The Snatcher broke off as a 'shing' noise carried across the small room.

"Don't mind me," Mr Harris said mildly. He was sitting in the corner holding one of his larger axes and a whetstone. "I'm just doing basic maintenance. It's so hard to keep a good edge when you're chopping through bone all the time." He ran the whetstone over the blade again, and smiled at the Snatcher. It worried Amy how little difference there was between that disturbingly insane smile and Harris's usual goofy grin.

"Who are you people?" the Snatcher asked. His eyes never left the axe blade.

"We're the people who decide whether you live or die," Ste told him. "Or hang around screaming in agony, for that matter. Tell us what we want to know and everything will be fine. Don't, and... well, we're not the ones with a reason to hate you." He smiled at the wizards. The Snatcher audibly gulped.

It was disappointingly easy after that. Amy got to cuff the man once for not watching his language, Mr Harris kept quietly sharpening his axe in the background, and suddenly their captive was falling over himself to tell them everything he knew. Which wasn't a lot as far as Amy could tell.

"So," Mr Harris said once the man was safely locked away again, "let me see if I've got this straight. Voldy is using a place called Malfoy Manor as his base of operations, but he doesn't actually spend that much time there. He does keep prisoners there, and a lot of his lieutenants are around, but the Big Cheese himself is mostly running around the country looking for something."

"The Elder Wand," Harry said grimly. "It's supposed to be so powerful that its wielder cannot be defeated."

Conrad made a small choking noise. "The Deathstick is real?" he asked.

Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly. "You-Know-Who thinks it is."

"And there's a long and bloody history to back him up on that," Ron put in. Hermione glared at him. Apparently she didn't believe the story. Then again, a few weeks ago Amy hadn't believed in monsters or magic, so maybe it was worth keeping an open mind this time.

"Long and bloody?" Josh queried.

"Lots of backstabbing and betrayal, I guess," Harris ventured. Conrad and Ron nodded. "I thought so. You don't meet someone with that kind of power head on, not if you can get someone else to hit them with a wrecking ball first."

"So, ah, what do we do now?" Mr Wells asked. He really was a very different person when he wasn't doing something he loved, Amy reflected. When he was cooking or digging through his dusty old books or talking about rituals with Josh, he stopped being so self-conscious and embarrassed about everything.

"We break in and rescue the prisoners," Harry said.

"We?" Amy queried. She didn't like the way the wizard was presuming they would all fall in behind him.

"Me, Ron and Hermione," Harry said, surprising her. "It's great that you've helped us like this, but we can't ask you to come with us. This is our fight."

"The way I see it, this is everybody's fight," Josh disagreed. "V— I mean Wossiname's people haven't just been attacking wizards."

"Yes, but wand magic is fast," Hermione pointed out. "What you can do is amazing, but the Death Eaters aren't going to wait around while you perform a ritual. You were lucky you already had a shield up when the Snatchers arrived."

"Oh, I think we might still surprise them," Mr Harris said. "Magic isn't the only thing we can do, after all."

All eyes turned to Amy. She did her best to look unimpressed. Harris could talk all he liked, she was not going out of her way to help these people. She was a Vampire Slayer, not a Wizard Slayer.

"I can get you into the Manor," Conrad said suddenly. Amy looked at him sharply, only to see him staring fixedly at his knees, carefully not looking in the wizards' direction. They had called him 'Malfoy' hadn't they, just like the place they wanted to break into.

"You could," Ron said slowly, "but I think maybe you shouldn't."

Conrad nodded, still not looking up. "You don't trust me," he said dully.

"No, it's not that," Ron said quickly, winning himself some points with Amy. Then he promptly lost them again. "I mean, I don't trust you, but getting you to break us into your own home feels like rubbing it in."

Strangely that seemed to make Conrad feel better. At least he looked up and gave Ron a faint smile. "At least let me tell you where everything is," he insisted. "I know where the hidden passages are."

"A map would be a useful thing to have," Mr Harris put in before Ron could object again. "Somehow I don't think we're going to find plans of this place on the Internet."

"The what?"

Conrad looked as confused as Ron sounded. Amy belatedly realised that he had never seen a computer in action. She didn't have one, and while Mr Wells carried a laptop around, he hadn't opened it up while he'd been in the house. "It's like an enormous library, but you read it using computers," she offered.

Her explanation didn't seem to help much. "Computers are those big rooms with flashing lights and spinning... things?" Ron asked.

"Fifty years ago, maybe," Harris said. "They've gotten smaller since then." He pulled his phone out and waved it in the air. "This has got a small computer in it, for instance, though it isn't up to browsing the Internet."

"This one is," Wells piped up, pulling out an iPhone. Amy looked at it covetously, and wondered whether she could get the Council to upgrade her phone. It wasn't like she was going to afford anything that good any other way.

"That's nice an' all," Ste said sharply, "but we were talking about this manor?"

"Oh, right, sorry." Mr Wells dug around in his satchel, and in short order Conrad was sketching floor plans on some clean sheets of paper. While Amy didn't understand half of his annotations, she rather admired the precise, economical strokes with which the buildings were taking shape. Conrad could be quite an artist, she thought, if only he would let himself try.

"Wow, that's big," Mr Harris said as the ground floor was completed.

"It's a manor house of an old, powerful family," Ron said, studying the plans carefully. "I don't think they come in 'small'."

"Yeah, but..." Harris paused, then pointed to the outer wall of what Conrad had labelled 'Ballroom'. "Those have to be seriously thick walls, like castle-sized thick."

Conrad gave him a slightly shocked look. "How did you know that?" he asked.

Harris shrugged. "I worked construction. You learn a thing or two about load-bearing walls if you don't want buildings falling down on you, and that," he pointed to the ballroom, "is a lot of load to bear. Anyway, my point is... um, I know I had a point."

Her Watcher was weird, Amy decided not for the first time. And that was before you got to the medieval weaponry and demonology.

"What are the grounds like?" Ron asked. Harris snapped his fingers and pointed at Ron, and Josh's eyes went wide. Neither of them said anything though, just looked expectantly at Conrad.

Conrad looked startled at the sudden attention. "Mostly formal gardens and lawns around the house," he said, straightening up and closing his eyes as if to see his memories better. "There's a long, straight path to the front gates lined with beech hedges until it meets the front lawn and the sunken gardens. The kitchen garden is by the old wing — the left as you approach the house — and the master herbarium is on the right. Mother's main flowerbeds are at the back so that the ballroom has the best view, leading down to the lake."

"Lots of open ground so no one can sneak up on the house," Josh translated.

"Plus a couple of tank traps and a good spot for an enfilade," Harris agreed. "This place is a fortress. No wonder Vol-au-vent decided to hole up there."

There was a pause. "Vol-au-vent?" Ste asked sarcastically.

"Give me a break," Harris complained. "I only heard the name yesterday and my quip-fu is a bit rusty. I'll think of a good nickname for him eventually."

"I can get in," Harry said before they could get any more side-tracked. Amy was surprised at how confident he sounded.

Ron looked dubious. "We won't all fit," he began, then stopped himself. He looked around the room self-consciously, as if he had already said too much. "Can't Dobby help?"

"Wasn't he a house elf Father got rid of?" Conrad asked, frowning. "I thought he was supposed to be incompetent."

Harry gave Conrad a twisted grin. "I tricked Lucius into giving him a sock," he said, as if that explained anything. "Anyway I want to keep him as a surprise to get us out of there. If he takes us in, he'll only try to help."

Ron shuddered. "He means well."

"I know. But that means I sneak in on my own, and once I get to the dungeons—"

"No," Harris said firmly.

Harry glared at him. "What?" he demanded.

"You're not going in alone."

"You can't stop me."

Amy tensed, ready to do exactly that, but Harris waved her down without looking away from Harry. "You've got a bunch of people here ready and able to tackle this place," he said. There was a hard, angry edge to his voice that Amy had only heard once before, when they had rescued Conrad. "We are going with you."

Harry looked unimpressed. "Too many people have died already!"

"And I'm not going to let you be the next one!"

Amy stared at them in shock. She had never heard Mr Harris angry enough to shout before, and he made for a pretty scary sight. Unfortunately Harry didn't seem to scare easily, and looked just as angry.

"Sirius," Conrad murmured into the standoff.

Harry rounded on him. "Shut up! You don't talk about him. You don't even—"

"I'm sorry my aunt killed your godfather," Conrad said hurriedly, stunning Harry into silence. Conrad was white as a sheet and shaking from the effort of confronting Harry. Whatever he had to say must be important, Amy realised. She let her hand fall supportively on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry anyone has been killed in this whole mess," Conrad continued. "But Black, Dumbledore, even Diggory I suppose, they chose to fight. Granger and Weasley made the same choice, and you know that you can't stop them going with you. You don't know these people, but they're just as amazing as any wizard or witch I've met, and you won't get rid of them easily either." He smiled wanly at Harry. "They won't give up on me, and I'm not worth half of you."

Harry paused, visibly shaken. "I don't want anyone else to die for me," he choked out.

"I don't want to die," Conrad told him, "but better me than you."

"No one is dying on my watch," Harris said softly but firmly. "Do you know how old Slayers used to be when they were called?"

Hermione shook her head. "The stories weren't very specific, they just talked about girls." She looked speculatively at Amy. "You're seventeen or eighteen?" she asked.

"Amy's a late bloomer," Harris said before Amy could reply. "Most Slayers were called to be the 'one girl' when they were fourteen or so. Not many got to be sixteen. Before Buffy, the oldest Slayer on record was 22 when she died." He pause to let that sink in.

"What was special about Buffy?" Ron asked hesitantly.

Harris smiled warmly. "She was the first Slayer in centuries to have friends who went out patrolling with her. The old Council didn't like it, but having backup saved her life more than once."

"I've got backup," Harry said, sounding more sullen than stubborn now.

Harris nodded. "I know," he said glancing at Ron and Hermione. "Now you've got more. The trick is going to be figuring out how to use it." He held Harry's gaze for a long time, until the boy reluctantly nodded.

"So," Hermione said after a moment, "what are the wards on the Manor like?"

The conversation lost Amy almost immediately after that, descending into magical technicalities that she couldn't begin to understand. At least she wasn't the only one; Mr Harris had a glazed look and Ste was trying desperately not to look bored to tears as their other halves got deeper and deeper into the discussion. They were staying out of loyalty just as much as she was, but much as she wanted to be there for Conrad she didn't think she was doing him much good right at that moment. Deep in argument, Conrad seemed to have come out of his shell more than he had in the entire time Amy had known him.

He belonged there, she realised. He belonged with these wizards; it was what he knew, what apparently he was very good at. And she was keeping him from it. She could offer him space to recover in, but this wasn't his world. Once he was better, he would need to go back to the life that he knew if he was ever going to recover properly. She was going to have to let him go.

"I'll make some tea," she said, trying not to stand too abruptly, and fled to the kitchen to be alone with her thoughts.


	6. Excursions and Alarums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are Excursions and Alarums, in that order.

Josh splashed water on his face, looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and allowed himself a moment of panic. What the hell did he think he was doing?

Compared to the others, he wasn't just a novice at magic, he was practically a baby. Mr Wells at least had studied magic for years, even if the only magic he had been able to do reliably was demon summoning. The wizards had been doing magic since they were eleven. He had been the chief druid here for not quite a fortnight, and he hadn't even believed in magic before that.

Yet people were paying attention to him and the crazy ideas he kept spouting as if he knew what he was talking about. It terrified Josh that people were relying on his guesses. His guesses combined with Mr Wells's research had been good so far, but they were still guesses. Worse, he was guessing about another style of magic, one that didn't work the same as the small amount of magic he was used to. Josh spent a moment praying to anyone who would listen that he wasn't going to get someone killed.

Taking a deep breath, Josh steadied himself and left the bathroom, nodding to Conrad who was waiting outside. To his surprise, Conrad didn't step into the vacated loo. Instead he looked nervously up and down the short hallway before starting to talk in a low voice.

"Can I... I mean, I'm really sorry to ask, I know I shouldn't... It's not... I don't..."

"Hey," Josh said gently, putting a hand on Conrad's shoulder to stop the flow of words. He still wasn't any too clear on what had happened to Conrad before he'd been rescued, but it was pretty obvious that it had wrecked his self-confidence. "You can always ask a favour," he said, picking the most likely thing he could think of for Conrad to be nerving himself up for. "You may not get it, but you can always ask."

Conrad sagged a little. "Can you fix Potter's wand?" he asked in that same quiet voice, his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Josh frowned. "I thought he had a spare one? He seemed to be doing OK in the Grove."

"I'm sorry," Conrad said. He shifted restlessly. "It was a stupid idea; I shouldn't have said anything. I'll go—"

"Hey," Josh interrupted again. "Look at me, Conrad." With great reluctance, Conrad raised his head until he was staring at Josh's chest. Josh sighed. "Con, I need you to know that I mean what I say here, and that means you need to look me in the eye." He waited until Conrad braced himself and looked up, trying his best to project calm reassurance.

"I'm only asking questions because I don't understand," he said gently. "I don't know anything about wands and how they work, so I need you to tell me when I'm getting it wrong. I guess I thought using a different wand was like playing a different guitar. I'd rather play my own because it's familiar and comfortable, but I could play any other guitar and get used to it in a few minutes. What am I missing?"

Conrad stared at him for a long moment. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him; he stood up straighter and said, "A wand is something that is fitted to a wizard. It's not just a tool, it's part of how magic works for you. It would be like... like playing a guitar that's a different size or shape."

"A different tuning, maybe?" Josh offered. "You can play it, but it's hard and you'll make a lot of mistakes. You do get used to it eventually, though," he added, thinking of his occasional experiments with dropped-D tuning.

"I'm not sure you ever get used to someone else's wand," Conrad said uncertainly. "Potter... what you saw was like Amy fighting with one hand tied behind her back. Two years ago, he was the one teaching the younger students how to duel."

Josh whistled quietly. "And you think he's going to need to be on top form?"

"The Dark Lord is powerful too," Conrad pointed out, "and he's had a lot more experience. Potter will need every advantage he can get."

"Right," Josh said, nodding. That was what they'd spent the last hour trying to drum into Harry after all. Then another thought occurred to him. "What happened to your wand?" Conrad looked down instantly, practically confirming Josh's guess. "Hey," he said quickly, "do I need to do the 'You are worthy' speech again? Because I will, you know."

Conrad managed the faintest glimmer of a smile as he made himself look up. It didn't last long though, and Josh could see how much of an effort this was for him. "She broke it," Conrad confirmed. He never said who this 'she' was, and out of respect Josh had never asked the others. "She broke it, and threw it on the fire, and made me watch while it burned. She wanted me to know it was over, that I couldn't go back."

Impulsively, Josh pulled Conrad into a hug. It was awkward, what with Conrad being so much taller than him, but Josh didn't care. His friend needed the comfort. "She was wrong, you know," he murmured. "You can go back. You're still a wizard, with or without a wand."

Conrad shuddered, and Josh realised he was crying silently. "I don't want to go back," he managed to say haltingly. "I was a bully and a coward, and I hurt people, and..."

"And now you've grown up," Josh finished for him. They had all done a lot of growing up in the last few weeks. "That's fine. Brilliant, even. I'm just sorry you got hurt so badly on the way."

Josh held on until Conrad stopped shaking, then gave him a gentle push towards the bathroom. "Go on," he said. "You clean yourself up, and Mr Wells and I will start talking about wands."

Not just Harry's wand, either.

******

Food, Xander reflected, was going to be a blessing and curse of his life from now on. A blessing because even when it was weird and experimental, Andrew's cooking was pretty amazing; a curse because he was going to be spending a lot of time grocery shopping, and damn but those bags were heavy. Still, at least the shopping trip had got Ste and him out of some extreme magic geekery. Andrew and Josh seemed to want to know every last detail of every bit of wizard magic that the assault team might encounter, which was way overkill as far as Xander was concerned. The talk had got so incomprehensible and rarefied that Xander had been just about ready to pass out from oxygen deprivation when Ron had asked when they were going to eat. The wizards had their own supplies in that TARDIS-tent of theirs, but Xander had leapt at the excuse of having a proper meal just to get out of the house. He needed Ste's help of course, because Ste knew which shops would be open, and not inconsequentially shared Xander's opinions on magic theory. So did Ron, apparently; at least he practically begged them to let him come along, and Xander didn't think it was just for the novelty of seeing non-magical shops.

It was dark by the time they left the only supermarket enterprising enough to be open on New Year's Day. Long winter nights were another of the things that the Californian didn't like about England, but he wasn't too worried; he and Ste both had stakes under their coats, and anyway vampire activity seemed to be almost non-existent around these parts. Hollyoaks's social life was dead, not undead. So Xander wasn't paying that much attention, was in fact busy describing the unobtainable joys of Twinkies and Oreos to a sceptical Ste and a spellbound Ron, when he felt something hit him.

"What the hell?" he demanded, stumbling slightly.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I felt something too," Ste said, looking round warily. "Like someone brushed past me."

"Felt more like an electric eel just goosed me," Xander grumbled. "Yow, and again."

"I didn't feel anything." Ron was looking round for trouble now, which was exactly what Xander would have told him to do. Apparently being the best friend of the Wizarding World's Great White Hope gave you the same survival skills as being the best friend of the Slayer.

"We need to find the cause," Ste said grimly. "With magic."

Ron looked startled, though not half as startled as Xander felt. "I don't know how," Ron admitted.

"We do," Ste said. Xander opened his mouth to object, but Ste cut him off before he could start. "We're outdoors, so we can manage without all the herbs and stuff if we have to, and there isn't time to argue about this any more. Keep us covered," he said to Ron, "this is going to take a while."

Ste was right, not that Xander was going to actually say so; they didn't have time to argue. Reluctantly he put his bags down, tried to ignore the weird twitching sensation and started reciting the very first druidic ritual he had ever done.

Casting the Sight with Ste turned out to be a very different experience to doing it with Andrew. With Andrew, Xander didn't need to think about what was going on. It was almost more like reacting to what Andrew did, running more on instinct than anything else. He didn't have that kind of understanding with Ste. They started off talking over each other, totally out of sync and getting nowhere. Then they hit on the idea of alternating lines, getting used to each other's way of doing things until they finally clicked.

When Xander opened his eyes, he discovered that the results weren't the same as when he and Andrew did it either. The colours weren't as sharp as normal, or as detailed; the whole thing didn't feel as powerful as he remembered it being. It did feel more stable, though, which kind of made sense. As far as he understood it, druidic magic was supposed to be done by groups of druids, and the more druids there were the easier and more powerful the spell was supposed to be. He and Andrew, like all the couples, effectively combined to make one super-druid, which got them the power but without the numbers to stabilise the ritual.

Of course he didn't need that much power to see the big green rope of light that started from somewhere around his navel and stretched off into the distance. Or the large blue hemisphere surrounding them, for that matter. Xander glanced over at Ron, who had his bags on the ground and his wand out. "Ron, have you done anything?"

"Um, I stuck up a quick warding, just to be safe. Why?"

"Just wanted to be sure what the blue glowy thing was. Now what the hell is this? Ste?"

"No idea," Ste said unhelpfully from where he was examining the rope close up. "I really don't like the way it goes right into you, though. Can you feel anything from it?"

"Just a slight tug sometimes. Whoah! Like that."

"It went taut for a moment there," Ste reported, "like someone was pulling on it. I do not like this."

"Me neither," Xander agreed, fishing out his phone and hitting speed dial. "Hey, Andrew, gather the troops. I've got some kind of magical line attached to me, and we're way under-armed to meet whatever's on the other end of it."

"Oh!" Xander heard the panic in Andrew's voice and gave himself a mental slap for not leading up to the problem more gently. He really did not need to be talking Andrew down from hysteria right now. Then he heard Andrew take a deep breath and say steadily, "Where are you?"

"Fuller Street," Xander said promptly, having caught sight of the conveniently-placed name plate. "I guess we're about ten minutes away."

"I could apparate us back," Ron offered.

"Would that work with whatever this is still attached to him?" Ste asked.

Ron frowned. "I dunno," he admitted.

"I don't want to drag this anywhere we care about anyway," Xander told the pair of them.

"Stay where you are," Andrew commanded. "We'll come to you."

A car turned into the road, reminding Xander of how very visible they were. "We need to get off the street. We're way too exposed out here if whatever it is finds us."

"Find an alleyway," Andrew suggested. He sounded a little short of breath.

"It's found us," Ste said quietly. "The other end of the magic is in that car."

"Crap," Xander said succinctly. "Guys, back away from the kerb, find as much cover as you can." There was a lot of magic in the approaching car, bright enough to Xander's Sight that he could tell there were just two people there, one of whom was gesturing vigorously.

"Thirty seconds, Xander," Andrew said desperately. Xander could hear him yell something about being out of time.

The car slowed down and pulled over, and Xander took a cautious step back from it. It was hard to see between the glare of the magic and the dull street lights, and he had no real idea who it was that was after him. The car suggested it wasn't one of Harry's Death Eaters, but that didn't narrow it down much.

"Are they waving?" Ron asked uncertainly.

The car doors opened, and Xander groaned into his phone. "Stand the guys down, Andrew," he said. "It's Willow."

"Hi, Xander," his oldest friend called. "Surprise!"

"She... I... What?" Andrew spluttered.

"I know exactly what you mean," Xander said tiredly. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Kennedy stepped out of the driver's side of the car. "You OK there, Xand?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, pocketing his phone. "I'm just coming down off DEFCON 2, you know?" And he must be tired if he could remember that DEFCON numbers went down, not up. "Kennedy, Willow, I'd like you to meet Ste Hay and Ron Weasley."

"This is your friend?" Ste said, sounding very unimpressed. Ron didn't look any less on edge, either.

"Nice to meet you, too," Kennedy said with heavy irony.

Willow came round the car, but stopped short of hugging him like she usually did. "What's with the frowny face, Xander? I thought you'd be pleased I got your backup here early."

"I am, Wills," Xander told her. "I'd just be happier if I hadn't been freaking out about the magic that seemed to be attached to me."

It was Willow's turn to frown. "You felt my tracer?"

"Still feeling it," Xander said pointedly.

Willow eeped and made a little gesture. Xander sighed in relief as he saw the magic come apart and stop tugging at his insides. "How were you able to feel that?" she asked.

"We're druids, remember?" Ste said bluntly. Willow gave him a narrow look.

Xander was looking at her sharply himself. He hadn't missed the unspoken 'You've never noticed before' in her manner. He had always suspected that she kept an eye on him, not that she ever admitted it when he asked. There was no point bringing it up now, though. "Our guests are being actively hunted by a devious wizard. You can imagine what we thought." He paused, trying to get his irritation under control. He didn't exactly succeed. "Couldn't you have used the phone?"

"You turned your GPS off," Willow said promptly.

Because she had told him a hacker could use it to find his location. Xander sighed. "I meant actually calling me, like normal people do."

She gave him a weak, apologetic smile. "I wanted it to be a surprise for you."

Ron coughed. "Surprises don't go down well when someone's hunting you," he said, sounding a bit more relaxed now.

"Yeah, if you'd turned up a minute later, we'd have had a reception committee waiting for you, expecting the worst," Ste put in.

Xander nodded. "God knows what would have happened if we were still at Amy's place," he said. "Do I need to be having words with Giles about how much magic you're using?"

Willow looked thoroughly deflated. "I'm sorry, Xander, I didn't mean to worry you. It's just been such a long time since we've had a chance to catch up properly, and once we got up here I couldn't wait, and I just wanted to do something nice for you and make you happy."

Xander looked at the puppy-dog eyes staring up at him, thinking that Willow probably didn't even realise she was making them any more. This was what they had done since kindergarten, that extra something to make each other smile. He couldn't fault Willow for that, not when he still felt the same.

"OK, c'mon," he said and pulled her into a hug. "Next time, phone ahead. And, uh, not wanting to sound insulting, but I was kinda hoping for more cavalry than just the two of you."

"We brought a bunch of girls along," Kennedy said, clapping Xander on the shoulder. "Left them settling into the hotel. We figured you might not appreciate having a dozen loud minis descending on you and your Slayer."

"We can be thankful for small mercies," Ste muttered. Kennedy gave him a mild glare, but didn't otherwise rise to the bait.

"Good plan," Xander told her quickly. "An even better plan would be loading our groceries into the car and getting back to Amy's place before they all die of hunger. You know we spent the whole afternoon researching without the aid of doughnuts?"

"No!" Will exclaimed, eyes wide with fake horror. "How did you survive?"

"We fled," Ron admitted, eyeing the car with fascination.

"We strategically withdrew and foraged for raw ingredients that Andrew will turn into a delicious meal," Xander corrected. "Speaking of, you might want to be ready with another apology when we get there. Andrew sounded pretty pissed off when we figured out it was you."

"Pshaw," Willow said dismissively. "I can handle Andrew."


	7. Warren and Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About that wand...

"Good morning, sunshine." Warren gave Justin a wholly fake smile as the teenager stepped out of the _Drive'N'Buy._ He was a little disappointed that Justin rolled his eyes rather than treating him with respectful caution, but that was the whole point of this exercise. Justin was getting entirely too self-confident and independent for Warren's liking. He needed to be reminded that Warren owned him.

"What do you want?" Justin sighed.

"Let's see now," Warren said with bright insincerity. "I'd like world peace, an end to hunger, and a cure for cancer."

"Sorry, can't help you," Justin said, and tried to move off.

Warren put out a hand to stop him. "I'll settle for keeping my half-share in the _Dog,_ and you are going to help me with that." He grinned nastily, and was pleased to see Justin flinch back a little. Not nearly as much as he should have, but it showed that Justin still knew that crossing Warren meant trouble.

"What makes you think I'd do anything to help you?" Justin challenged.

"Because I know all the dirty little things you've done," Warren said, letting a vicious edge creep into his voice. He wanted Justin in no doubt that he was serious about this. "All those little jobs you did, all the dodgy deals you've been part of, all the things you did for Katie that you think I don't know about. How long do you think Jack will let you play happy families once he knows all that, eh? How long do you think Jake will want to keep you around?"

Justin looked at him for a long moment, then to Warren's surprise he laughed. "That's it? That's all you've got?" he asked.

"You don't think I'd do it?" Warren asked, clamping down on his annoyance. It would be useful later if — when, it seemed — Warren needed to get physical, but right now he needed to be in control.

"You'd do it," Justin acknowledged, "but do you seriously think Jack would take anything you say at face value? And Jake..." He trailed off with that distant look Warren knew so well. This was his pressure point, Warren realised; threaten Jake and Justin would cave.

"Jake _knows_ ," Justin said. "Everything I've done, good and bad, he knows it all." The 'and he still loves me' was implicit. "He knows me better than I know myself. He's going to know when you're playing mind-games."

"Funny how he knows you so well now," Warren mused, thinking quickly. "How long is it since you got his wife killed?" Yes, he could work with this. He didn't think Jake had the guts to arrange for his wife's death so that he could take up with her student, but there were people who would believe it. Hollyoaks had seen stranger things.

Justin stiffened, evidently seeing which way Warren was going. "Leave Jake out of it," he hissed.

"Or what?" Warren smirked, know how much it would wind Justin up. Predictably, Justin got right up into Warren's face, or at least tried to; Warren pushed him back into the shopfront.

"If you hurt Jake in any way, I will find a way to bring everything down around your ears," Justin threatened. Warren was unimpressed.

"In case you hadn't noticed, you're alone here," he said. "Nobody's going to help you. If you want to keep your precious boyfriend's reputation intact, you're going to do exactly what I say."

"He's not alone."

Warren turned to see Josh Ashworth standing in the doorway to his parents' shop, arms folded and trying to look like business. Unfortunately being a short, skinny teenager he just looked ridiculous. "What?" Warren snapped.

"He's not alone," Josh repeated. "He's never alone, not really, so don't go thinking you can bully him into things like this."

"Is that so?" Warren sneered. He had no idea why the kid was getting involved, and to be honest he didn't care.

"It is," Josh said defiantly. "Now if you don't mind I've got something useful for Justin to do."

"What if I do mind?" Warren demanded, putting a hand out to stop Justin getting away.

"Then we might have to get nasty," Josh replied. "Trust me, you wouldn't enjoy that." Warren snorted; Josh trying to threaten him like this was ludicrous. It was like being mugged by a puppy.

"Josh, you shouldn't," Justin said apprehensively. "Warren's just being Warren."

"He was threatening you and Jake," Josh disagreed. He turned to Warren. "I don't care what you get up to the rest of the time, that's your business, but when you threaten me and mine you make it my business."

"I can handle this, Josh," Justin insisted. "Please?" Josh looked askance at Justin, clearly not entirely believing him, but after a moment he nodded and stepped back. Justin looked relieved, then turned to face Warren.

"I'm not going to plead with Jack for you," he said. "Even if nobody told him you'd been pressuring me, he'd figure it out in a couple of minutes anyway. Jake wouldn't even take that long."

"So be convincing," Warren told him.

"You aren't going to push this," Justin continued as if Warren hadn't spoken. "You can hurt me, but I can hurt you too. I know enough about what you've done to make life very difficult for you. I don't want to — I don't want Louise or Katie to be hurt even by accident if we stir things up — but I will if you push me.

"But that's all I'll do. Some of my friends, if they think you're a threat to us, will hit you where it hurts. They'll keep hitting where it hurts until they're certain you aren't a threat, and not one single time will you see it coming. You can be a scary man when you want to be, Warren, but some of the stuff I've seen recently... There's real evil out there, and now I know some of the people who put a stop to it. Stopping you wouldn't be as hard as what they do every day."

"That's a lovely story," Warren said. He wasn't nearly as unshaken as he tried to sound; he had know Justin for a long time now, knew his little tells, and he could tell the kid really meant what he said.

"Oh, it's not a story," Josh said airily. Justin frowned at him, and he raised an apologetic hand. "Sorry, you were saying."

"There's no win for you here," Justin said, turning back to Warren. "It's not going to work and it's going to make enemies of a whole bunch of people. It's just not worth annoying any of my friends over." He paused, considering. "Except maybe Andrew, you'd survive annoying him."

"You didn't see him last night," Josh disagreed. "We thought there was a..." his eyes flicked to Warren, "...a threat to Mr H, and suddenly all those stories about him being a reformed evil genius didn't seem so unlikely. He really tore a strip off the person who caused the false alarm, and she's more powerful than all of us put together."

"Really? Wow." Justin seemed to be impressed by this news. Warren didn't know what to make of that. He did know that he didn't like the way his interests were casually getting side-lined.

He glanced dismissively at Josh before fixing Justin with his best glare. "We'll continue this conversation later," he said firmly. Some time when there weren't any witnesses around, or at least not witnesses Justin seemed to trust so blithely.

Justin sighed. "I'll talk to Jack," he said, "but it won't work. He doesn't want a business partner, and even if he did he doesn't trust you enough." He moved towards Josh, and this time Warren let him.

That hadn't gone at all the way he had planned. Warren had never harboured much hope that Justin would be able to talk Jack around; no, Justin was supposed to try, fail, and feel like he owed Warren for failing. He wasn't supposed to dismiss both the demand and the threats so easily, not when he knew what Warren could do if he wanted to. He certainly wasn't supposed to be more worried about what Josh Ashworth would do, or behave as if the kid was his boss.

Warren had know something was up the moment that Justin had moved in with Jake Dean, but he had assumed it was some kind of elaborate revenge plot. He'd been wrong, obviously. Something was going on, and while Warren didn't put much stock in the way Justin was blowing up the importance of his new friends, it wasn't as unimportant as he had thought.

It had been stupid of him to discount Justin, Warren thought, and it was gone time he found out what the kid was up to. He had a few clues — the Deans, Josh, these new people they talked about — and now that he was paying attention there would be more.

After all, it was only once he knew what was going on that he would be able to turn it to his own advantage.

********

Conrad was beginning to worry that he was a little too proud of his friends.

Ever since he had mentioned Potter's wand to Josh, the druids had thrown themselves into figuring out how to repair it. Apparently they had spent all morning at Josh's house throwing ideas around, then half the afternoon in the grove testing them out. By late afternoon — less than twenty four hours after he had asked — they were confident enough to call everyone in, including Mr Harris's friends, to take part in the ritual.

Josh had made a point of explaining it to Potter and Conrad, not Granger or Willow; Conrad had asked and Harry needed to play a part was all he would say when asked why. Conrad felt a little guilty for feeling so pleased to be included, even if he suspected it was mostly because Josh was still a bit annoyed with Willow and didn't care for Granger much either.

Apparently fixing a wand was more like healing than repairing. At least it was for the druids; Conrad knew just enough theory to be fairly sure that no wizard would look at it that way. For the druids, it seemed that persuading a broken wooden object to "heal" back into one piece wasn't that different to persuading a broken branch back onto a living tree, and that was only easier than healing a cut finger because people were more complicated than trees. Justin in particular seemed to have a knack for it, which made sense to Conrad because he had watched Justin put everything into healing Jake of the desperation that had driven him to Astarte. Justin wanted to fix everything.

Of course it wasn't that simple, Josh had said while Conrad and Potter were still wrapping their brains around that bit of druidical magic theory. A wand wasn't just a stick — he had flashed a grin at Conrad when he said that — and they needed Potter's magic as part of the fix if they wanted it to still be Potter's wand at the end of the ritual. Not that he would be performing the ritual, since he wasn't a druid; no, what they needed was for Harry to just let his magic out without any form or direction, an idea that would have given Snape and McGonagall a fit. Like a child doing accidental magic, Conrad had said, vaguely uneasy with the whole idea.

So Josh had made Potter spend the next hour practicing just letting his magic loose, with helpful comments from Willow and John Paul of all people. Josh made Conrad practise too; "Just so you know it's nothing to be scared of," he had said, but Conrad knew a punishment when he heard one. He had spoken out of turn, after all.

The shadows were long now, and the ritual was well under way. The druids had worked themselves into the magic of the grove as much as invoking it, to the point where Conrad wasn't sure just how conscious they were of swaying in time to the movement of the branches in the wind. Potter had been called forward and held up his wand on his open palms. Now Justin was covering Potter's hands with his own while the others started to chant softly.

"See your wand as it should be," Justin said to Potter. "Remember what it was like whole and complete; the way it cut through the air as you gestured, the familiar weight of it in your hand. Remember how it felt as your magic flowed through it." He sounded different somehow, full of a calm authority quite at odds with the overprotective teenager Conrad had first met.

As Justin continued to speak, a green glow began to seep from under his hands. It took a while for Conrad to realise that it was Potter who was glowing. There was a dim green light enveloping his whole body, it was just more concentrated around his hands and his wand. It must be Potter's free magic interacting with the charged atmosphere of the ritual, being guided into his wand. If he concentrated, Conrad could see the flow of it, and he wished he had the theory to accurately describe what he was seeing... but that wasn't his world anymore. He wasn't a wizard now, there was no point in wishing otherwise, particularly not when he was content to help and support Amy.

Potter gave a sudden jerk and the chanting abruptly stopped. Justin smiled as the glow died away. "It is done," he said formally, lifting his hands. Potter looked on wonderingly for a moment before lifting his newly repaired wand in the air. "Go on," Justin said, much more like his normal self, "try an easy spell."

Potter grinned, gestured and shouted, _"Lumos!"_ The grove was filled with a glorious silvery light emanating from the tip of his wand, almost seeming to drip down like water. It was a beautiful display from one of the simplest of spells, and Conrad couldn't decide whether it was brighter than normal or if he had just forgotten how brilliant such a basic spell was.

"Wow," Potter said, sounding every bit as awestruck as Conrad felt. "I mean, thank you very much. I was afraid it couldn't be repaired. If there's anything I can ever do for you..."

"Careful making promises like that," Justin advised him. "Some day someone will take you up on it." Conrad shuddered; he knew that lesson all too well.

Mr Wells finished a brief conversation with Josh, who moved on to Mr Harris. "You have a gift," Mr Wells intoned kindly. "Use it wisely and we will consider ourselves well paid. The Sacred Duty that prophecy has entrusted you with..."

Conrad tried to listen to Mr Wells, he really did, but it wasn't easy. Mr Wells wasn't saying anything they didn't already know, and even Granger was getting restive. Watching Josh make his way around the circle of druids, taking something too small to make out from each of them, was honestly more interesting. That didn't allow him not to pay attention, Conrad thought guiltily, and wrenched his attention back to the speech.

Josh took centre stage once Mr Wells ran down. "Harry isn't the only one with a gift here," he said. "Conrad, please step forward." Surprised, Conrad did as he was told.

"You aren't the spoiled brat the others knew from school," Josh told him. "I don't think you have been for a long time. The man who's spent the last few weeks putting himself back together again isn't even close. It's time," he said, holding up a hand as Conrad made a move to protest. He looked at Potter expectantly.

Potter nodded, to Conrad's further surprise. "You treat people like people," he explained. "You're in love with a Muggle. About the only thing I can complain about is you think too _little_ of yourself."

"But..." The only thing all that proved was that he was broken, but Conrad couldn't ever seem to persuade anyone of that. He was trying to do good now because he was weak, and it was Amy who was giving him something to live up to. If he was back with his family, he would follow their lead instead. He didn't want to, but he knew he wasn't strong enough to say no. He turned in mute appeal to the one person he was sure would always be suspicious of him.

"Sorry," said Weasley. "Do you have any idea how annoying it is to realise that I'm never going to pay you back for all those insults?"

Conrad couldn't help but whimper. He wasn't strong enough for this. "Power corrupts," Mr Harris had wisely said when Conrad had explained what a little shit he had been. Power had corrupted, and Conrad knew he was far too weak-willed to resist if it was given back to him.

"It's alright," Josh said kindly. "There are plenty of people who have done worse than you here, and more willingly. We'll all be here for you if you do need help." Conrad saw Willow and Mr Wells nodding vigorously, and remembered being told that Mr Wells hadn't always been on the same side as Mr Harris. He had probably never done anything as bad as try to kill someone, though.

"Besides," Josh continued, "like it or not you are in the middle of a war. One side has already found you by accident; who says the other side won't? We don't want you to be defenceless if that happens. You need a wand."

"Thank you," Conrad said meekly, bowing to the inevitable. They weren't going to let him walk away from here without a wand, no matter how bad an idea he thought it was.

"It'll be alright," Josh repeated. Then he stood taller, raising his hands palm up towards Conrad. On cue, the other druids formed a circle around the trunk of the central oak, leaving a spot open for Josh, and began a low wordless hum.

"Eight druids have donated hair to form the core of a new wand," Josh intoned. Like Justin, he sounded different now that the ritual was under way, and Conrad found himself responding automatically to the authority in his voice. Now that he looked, Conrad could see the strands of hair woven together to form a loose skein about the length of a wand. That must have been what Josh had been making when he had spoken to each of the druids earlier. "Accept this gift, and use it to protect and serve all that lives and loves," Josh finished.

"I will," Conrad replied honestly, because some reply seemed necessary. At Josh's nod he took hold of the hairs, grabbing them at one end as if they were already a wand, and allowed himself to be manoeuvred into the circle, facing the tree.

"Let your magic flow through what will be the heart of your wand. Let it mingle with the magic of this holy place until it becomes almost a living thing, clean and solid of itself." By the end, Josh's voice had become part of the hum, almost more a suggestion of words than actual speech. Conrad had to wrench his attention back to the orders he had been given, setting free his magic as he had been made to do earlier. It turned out to be easier than when he had practised; his magic wanted to flow through the hairs, wrapping around them protectively and gaining power and definition as it did so. It wasn't long before Conrad was holding a wand of almost solid magic rather than some limp braided hair.

"Good," came Josh's not-voice, and the hum changed. As it acquired texture and rhythm, a bright golden light seemed to unfold in front of Conrad. It was almost like the tree itself was opening, allowing Conrad to see the radiance inside. "Now reach in," he was told. He pushed his wand hand forward, and the gold surrounded him.

"Conrad?" The voice behind him was impossible. He had watched the man die, sacrifice himself to save the druids, and yet when Conrad turned, there was Simon standing with a confused look on his face. Conrad could see nothing else, not even the ground beneath his feet, just Simon and the light.

"Simon? How? Where are we?" A horrible thought occurred to him; "Am I dead?"

"No! You're..." Simon frowned in concentration. "You're in my head, I think. This isn't a real place." He paused, frowning at Conrad this time. "Are you supposed to be dead?"

"I don't think so," Conrad replied, though he wasn't entirely sure. "Not unless something has gone horribly wrong."

"Good. I don't want you to be dead. You're my friend, I remember doing something to make sure you wouldn't be dead."

Conrad nodded. "You sacrificed yourself to save the solstice ritual. I was going to do it, but you knocked me out and took my place," he said sadly.

Simon shook his head dubiously. "No, there was something else. Someone was threatening you, scaring you. Maybe Mark, too? I know I did something, but it's all blurry," he sighed.

"The storm? You created the thunderstorm when Potter apparated in?" There wasn't anything else it could be, though Conrad couldn't understand how. As far as he knew, Simon had neither the talent nor the training to do anything like that. At the time he had wondered if the grove itself had made the weather turn bad so quickly. It wasn't like he didn't know supposedly inanimate magical items that definitely had minds of their own.

"Maybe?" Simon said uncertainly. "It's all so confused, like when we woke up at Amy's and I wasn't sure I wasn't still dreaming. You know?"

Conrad nodded. He still felt that way every morning.

"But what are you doing here?" Simon went on.

"I'm... I'm here for a wand," Conrad said hesitantly.

The golden light became darker, more menacing, and Simon looked furious. "What makes you think you have any right to my wood?" he roared.

Conrad flinched away from him. "I don't," he said quickly. "Josh insisted, and everybody else agreed with him, but if you don't want—"

"That's alright then," Simon interrupted. The light brightened and he was all confused smiles again.

"What was that?" Conrad asked cautiously.

"What was what?" Simon seemed genuinely puzzled, apparently having forgotten that he'd ever been angry. Conrad was pretty sure that meant some major magic, which probably meant that asking about it would be a really bad idea right then. It might make Simon angry again.

"Never mind," he said.

"There was something important," Simon said, frowning once more. "Something to do with you."

"A wand," Conrad said promptly. "I came to ask about a wand."

"You have a wand," Simon said.

"Had. It was broken, destroyed."

"No, there's one in your hand now."

Conrad looked at his hand and was surprised to see that it was true. He was holding a wand of gleaming honey-coloured wood that fitted into his hand so naturally that he hadn't even realised it was there.

"Oak-heart, like you. Forged by time and steadfast." Simon's voice came from all around him, and Conrad looked up quickly, raising his wand to be ready for whatever was coming next. What he saw was the golden light folding back in on itself, leaving him back in the grove.

"Wow," he heard Willow say into the silence. "That was really impressive."

Josh clapped him gently on the shoulder. "Come on, Conrad, show us some magic."

Obediently, Conrad waved his wand and set multi-coloured sparks dancing around the clearing. It felt right, even easier than using his old wand, at least as far as he could remember. His wand felt like a natural extension of his hand, and the magic flowed through him and followed his direction almost without him needing to think. It was at once the most exhilarating and the most frightening feeling, and given what he had been through in the last few months that was saying something.

"That's really amazing," Amy said with a strangely wistful smile. Before Conrad could think about it, she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, and then he was too busy blushing and ducking his head.

"That was nothing," he said eventually. "You should see what Weasley's brothers can do with fireworks."

"You'll be able to protect yourself now," Amy insisted. "That matters a lot. I was really worried about you going to the Manor before."

"He's not coming," Potter said firmly.

Conrad bowed his head in mute acceptance. Now that he had a wand, the others couldn't trust him not to switch back to his family's side. He didn't blame them; he didn't trust himself either.

"Uh, Harry," Weasley said, "you were the one insisting that we needed him to get through the wards."

"We'll just have to do without him. I'm not going to put him at risk like that." Conrad looked up at Potter's words, confused. Evidently Weasley wasn't faring any better, because Potter continued, "When he didn't have a wand, we knew we'd have to protect him. Now he has, we'll forget."

"You think he can't defend himself?" Amy asked hotly.

"How long is it since you cast a spell in anger?" Potter said to Conrad by way of answer.

"Months," Conrad admitted, lowering his head again. Potter was right; he would be a liability in a fight.

"It's not like we've got a choice," Weasley said dubiously. "And he hasn't forgotten how to cast spells or anything."

"Oh, for pity's sake," Potter said. "Look, there's one way to demonstrate this." He strode up to Conrad.

"Draco Malfoy, I challenge you to a duel."


	8. Duel Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco duel before the raid on Malfoy Manor

Amy couldn't believe what was going on. She had laughed when Harry had issued his challenge; duelling seemed like a stupid idea to her, all formal bowing and none of the chaos that marked the little real combat she had seen. Unfortunately nobody had agreed with her. Conrad had insisted that he couldn't turn down the challenge even though he was sure to lose, Josh had readily agreed to allow them to duel in the Grove provided they didn't damage the trees, and Mr Harris's friends Willow and Kennedy were happy to be drafted in as referees. Amy's only consolation was that all eight druids had stood with her in Conrad's corner, while Harry only had his two friends.

Conrad and Harry stood facing each other now, a fair distance between them. Harry looked annoyed at the whole business, not that Amy cared. She was focused on Conrad, how nervous he was and how she could cheer him on.

"OK," Willow said from her position halfway between the combatants. "I'm going to give you a count of three, and when I say 'Go' you start. Is that alright?" Both duellists nodded. "Good. Three... Two... One... Go!"

Harry was lightening-fast, and Amy was impressed in spite of herself. Conrad tried to defend himself, but his wand went flying out of his hand before he managed to do anything.

"Let's call that a practise round, shall we?" Harry said lazily.

Kennedy looked at him narrowly. "Very sportsmanlike of you," she said with great sarcasm. Amy had to restrain herself from cheering.

Willow shushed her girlfriend and restarted the duel. This time Conrad did get a shield up in time, but it was obvious that Harry let him. He tossed spell after spell at Conrad just slowly enough for them to be deflected, and he made it look easy while Conrad desperately scrambled to defend himself.

"Is this the best you can do?" Harry jeered, not letting up the pressure for a moment. "Seriously, Malfoy, this is pathetic even by your standards."

Why couldn't he just get it over with, Amy thought angrily. Harry was obviously the better of them, but he seemed to be determined to prolong the duel and belittle Conrad into the bargain. Even Hermione was beginning to look disapproving, not that Amy took much comfort from that.

"I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to find you hiding," Harry continued, passing up another opportunity to slip under Conrad's guard. "You always were a coward."

Amy leaned forward, waiting for a good moment to spring to the attack and wipe the sneer off Harry's face. Nobody talked to Conrad like that, and to hell with the duel. She was surprised when a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. "Let them be," Mr Harris said quietly in her ear. "Harry's up to something."

"He'll be up for a black eye in a minute," Amy said through gritted teeth, but she held herself back. Whatever it was Mr Harris thought was going on, so far it was only making Conrad more miserable and withdrawn. If that was Mr Harris's idea of something they should allow to happen, Harry wouldn't be the only one getting thumped when this duel was over.

"What would your family say, you living with Muggles?" Harry carried on relentlessly. "And with a Muggle girlfriend too. Though with two kids to look after already, I supposed she needed help with the childcare."

Conrad's shoulders stiffened. "Amy's not like that," he said weakly.

"Sure," Harry drawled.

"She's not," Conrad insisted, drawing himself up.

"It's not like anyone would blame her," Harry said. He causally batted aside the spell Conrad found time to throw at him. "You're not exactly ugly, and you're so pathetically grateful for pretty much everything. Who wouldn't try to take advantage of someone like that?"

"She wouldn't... She didn't... Take that back," Conrad demanded.

"Make me," Harry hissed.

Conrad seemed to explode into action at last, forcing Harry to protect himself. The air between them fizzed with the magic they were throwing around and neither of them were talking any more, too busy weaving their spells to have breath for anything else. It was mesmerising, Amy thought. The Slayer in her recognised the cut and thrust of fencing in their moves, even though she had no idea what the spells they were casting did.

The fight was fast and furious, and it couldn't have lasted more than half a minute from the time it got serious. Still, it seemed like an age before Amy saw Conrad move a fraction too slowly, and then suddenly he was spinning to the ground as his wand was knocked out of his hand. Harry stood panting with his wand raised for a moment, then shouted "Yes!" and hurried to where Conrad was lying dazed.

"I knew you could do it," Harry crowed as he hauled Conrad to his feet. "That was bloody brilliant."

"But I lost," Conrad said in confusion, and Amy finally got it. Not that it would save Harry from some form of payback, but she understood why he had been needling Conrad so.

"But you fought," Harry countered, "and honestly, that was the hardest I've had to work for ages. I knew you could, if only I could get you angry enough."

"If only you what?" Conrad asked faintly.

"Would you have believed you could come that close to taking me out if you hadn't done it? And would you have done it if I hadn't been so insulting? Oh..." Harry paused and drew himself up stiffly. "I fully and formally retract everything I said about you and the people you love. I didn't mean a word of it." He rather spoiled the apology by grinning broadly.

Conrad blinked a couple of times, then looked narrowly at Harry. It was the nearest thing to a glare Amy had seen from him, and she felt oddly cheered by it. "That was very Slytherin of you," he said. "I suppose I should have expected it, seeing how Weasley is as loyal as a Hufflepuff and most of the school wonders why Granger wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw."

"Who the what how?" Mr Harris asked. His hand was still on Amy's shoulder as if he thought she might still start something with Harry. Which she would, but in her own time, and probably involving strong-arming him into changing nappies rather than actual violence.

"Sorry," Harry said brightly. "Pupils at school are sorted into four houses, each with different traditions. Gryffindors," he gestured at himself, Ron and Hermione, "are expected to be brave, Slytherins," he nodded at Conrad, "are noted for their cunning..."

"Huff'n'puffs are loyal and Ravens are smart," Harris finished. "Gotcha."

"Whatever," Ste said, "that was pretty amazing to watch."

"Yeah," Craig agreed, "you were moving so fast I didn't see half of what you were doing. I kind of wish we'd recorded it so I could watch it back in slow motion."

"It'll take years to get anything like that fast," John Paul said ruefully.

"I'm not sure we can ever get that fast," Josh said. "The way we do rituals gives us lots of power, but it's slow."

"And wands make a lot of the fiddly stuff easier," Willow agreed. She was eyeing Conrad's new wand with great interest, Amy noted. She shrugged off Mr Harris's hand and walked up to Conrad.

"Well, I thought you were amazing," she said firmly. He beamed at her.

"OK," Mr Harris broke in, "before things get majorly mushy or terrifyingly technical, we all need to go home and get some rest. I don't want anyone going into the Manor tonight tired."

"But I've got so many question about wands," Mr Wells whined.

"We'll still be here in the morning," Harry laughed. "Besides, for the technical stuff you want Hermione or Conrad, not me."

The group's slow movement out of the Grove stopped as everyone turned to look at Harry. "You called him Conrad," Amy said, not quite believing her ears. The wizards had been so set on calling him Malfoy.

Harry nodded. "As far as I'm concerned," he said to Conrad, "you've earned the right to be called whatever you want to be called. And you can call me Harry, if you like."

Conrad gaped at him for a moment. "Thank you... Harry," he said eventually. Amy couldn't help but smile as she noticed him stand a little taller and look a little more self-assured. Perhaps there wouldn't be soiled nappies in Harry's future after all, she thought. At this rate it wouldn't be long before Conrad was confident enough not to need to lean on her anymore.

She would miss him when he was gone.

******

'Hurry up and wait' had never been Ron's favourite occupation. It turned out to be even less fun when he was hiding in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor waiting to see if a slightly terrifying Wiccan could unlock a cell door without setting off every alarm in the building.

There were more of them than Ron was really comfortable with anyway. The three of them and Mal— er, Conrad were a given, but Amy had insisted on coming with her boyfriend. Then Kennedy had decided her sister Slayer needed backup, and Willow insisted on going with her girlfriend. Or possibly the other way round; Ron's brain had sort of seized up at the word 'girlfriend' and had taken a while to get going again.

Seven people was a lot to sneak into the manor house. There were more slayers and druids and what have you that they had side-along apparated outside, but they were staying well back from the wards and were only supposed to come charging in if everything went pear-shaped and Harry needed rescuing. Ron was glad that they were there, and even more glad of whatever spell they had cooked up that prevented anyone from seeing them approach the manor, but it made him nervous none the less to be relying on so many people he didn't know.

They had sneaked in easily enough once Conrad had slipped them past the wards, and it hadn't taken them long to get into the house and find Luna, Dean, Ollivander and a goblin named Griphook locked up in the dungeons. It had all been suspiciously easy, and no matter how much Harry had insisted he didn't feel any anticipation from Voldemort or how often Hermione pointed out that it was well past midnight and most of the Death Eaters would be in bed, Ron couldn't help but think that trouble was waiting for them just around the corner. At least he wasn't alone; Conrad and Kennedy seemed to think the same way he did, even if all their other halves seemed to be enjoying themselves way too much. Harry didn't, but he had pulled his invisibility cloak on readily enough. Ron took what comfort he could from the thought that even if they were surprised down here, Harry would still have that advantage.

"Honey, I don't want to hurry you," Kennedy said quietly from her current post at the foot of the stairs, "but how long is this going to take?"

"Not long now," Willow said absently. "I've tied off all the alarms, it's just a matter of breaking the lock without making too much noise. Stop fussing."

"They're probably all asleep anyway," Hermione offered.

"Not all of them," Kennedy said. "I can hear people moving around every now and then."

Ron grimaced, not that anyone was looking at him. "Brilliant. Let's just hope none of them decide to move down here. Harry, maybe you should watch from the top of the stairs."

"He's already up there," Kennedy said. "I felt him pass me. Damn but that cloak is good."

"Got it," Willow said. "Just a moment and..." There was a click and the cell door swung smoothly open.

"That was very interesting," Luna commented in her disconcerting way. "Are you sure you've never seen a crumple-horned snorkack? My father is certain that their breeding grounds are in America."

"There's quite a lot of America," Hermione said diplomatically. "We can talk about it later, once we've got out of here."

Luna nodded. "Only I don't think Griphook and Mr Ollivander can move very quickly, so I thought we would have lots of time to talk."

Ollivander did not look well, and the goblin looked like he'd been tortured so badly he could barely walk. He still had the energy to give Amy a venomous glare when she made a move to help him — he had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want either of the Slayers anywhere near him — but Ron didn't think that would get him very far.

Conrad stepped forward and bowed. "I must apologise for what has been done to you in this house," he said formally but with more determination than Ron had heard from him in a while. "May I be permitted to help you now?"

Ollivander nodded gratefully, but Griphook looked at him oddly. "A wizard offers to help a goblin?" he practically sneered. "What do you want, Master Malfoy?"

"The knowledge that the smallest part of the harm my family has done has been repaired," Conrad said calmly. Griphook tilted his head quizzically, but Malfoy didn't elaborate. Ron tried to contain his own curiosity. He dearly wanted to know what Malfoy had been through that had turned him into something resembling a decent human being, but Mal— Conrad wasn't talking and neither was anyone else who knew.

"Very well," Griphook said after what felt like an age. "On the strict understanding that I owe you no favour for this."

Conrad nodded and brandished his wand. Two comfortable-looking armchairs popped into existence in front of him, floating about a foot off the ground. "These should only be needed to get up the stairs," he said. "Once we are clear of the dungeons we'll be able to apparate you to safety."

"Wait, we get to teleport out?" Amy asked. "Or whatever you call it. Why couldn't we have come in like that and saved all the sneaking around?"

"We'd have set off every ward in the building," Ron told her. Conrad nodded in agreement. "We'll still set some off going out, only we don't care then."

"Can we discuss this once we're out of here?" Kennedy said impatiently. She turned and hissed up the stairs, "Are we clear up there?"

There was no reply. Concerned, Ron moved over to join Kennedy. "Harry?" he called up quietly. "Are you there, mate?" Silence.

"Someone must have spotted him," Hermione said fearfully.

Kennedy shook her head. "I'd have heard a scuffle," she said. She sounded annoyed, and it didn't take many seconds for Ron to figure out why. Harry must have decided to search Malfoy Manor for clues as to where Voldemort's remaining horcruxes were. This was the only place Ron could think of where there might be any hints, but that didn't make Harry wandering off on his own a good idea.

"I'm going to strangle him," Kennedy announced.

"He's my best friend," Ron disagreed, "I get to strangle him first."

"Perhaps I could look for him?" Malfoy offered.

"It's too dangerous," Amy said immediately. Ron nodded his agreement.

"I've got the best chance of anyone here of talking my way out of trouble," Malfoy pointed out.

"And when You-Know-Who starts riffling through your mind to find out what you've been doing?" Hermione asked. Conrad blanched. "We need to stick together, and move slowly and quietly just like we did to get in here."

There was a shout of "Intruders! Intruders!" from upstairs, and the sounds of a magical fire-fight began.

"Or we could just head for the most trouble we can find," Amy snarled. She and Kennedy started up the stairs, Ron hard on their heels.

They found Harry in the ballroom, facing off against a pair of Death Eaters while trying to protect a dizzy-looking Dobby. Ron and Conrad caught the Death Eaters by surprise and knocked them flying with stunners. "What happened to Dobby?" Ron asked.

"He jumped in front of a spell meant for me," Harry said, checking the house-elf over worriedly. "Dobby, are you OK?"

"Dobby does not feel well, Harry Potter sir," the house-elf wailed. "Dobby is sorry. Dobby will—"

"No!" Harry said quickly. "You mustn't punish yourself for being hurt. I forbid it."

"What is that?" Amy asked, looking askance at Dobby.

"It's a house-elf," Malfoy explained. "They're... basically they're household servants."

"What?"

"Exactly," Hermione fumed. Ron sighed and braced himself for another rant about 'barbaric practices', but fortunately Harry intervened.

"Ron, Hermione, I need you to get Griphook and Mr Ollivander to safety. Take them to Bill and Fleur's, they should be able to help. Get back here quickly, though; we'll need help to apparate everyone out." Ron nodded and moved over to Ollivander's armchair. Ollivander would have to be carried, and Ron didn't think Hermione would be able to manage his weight.

Harry reached into his pouch and pulled out Gryffindor's Sword. "You'd better take this," he said, handing it to Kennedy. "Be careful with it. The last time I used it, it got covered in basilisk venom, and that's really nasty stuff."

Ron cautiously apparated out as Kennedy and Harry began arguing about proper care and cleaning of weapons. He was relieved to see the outline of Shell Cottage looming out of the darkness, quiet and peaceful as it should be. He set Ollivander down carefully and began knocking loudly on the door.

It took far longer than Ron liked for Bill and Fleur to come to the door. He left Hermione explaining and apparated hurriedly back to Malfoy Manor just in time to see Amy throw something small and hard at one of the Death Eaters now in the room, knocking him straight out.

"—sword's been in my family for generations," Kennedy was shouting at a disarmed Bellatrix Lestrange. "You keep your hands off it." Ron was instantly confused; she was waving Gryffindor's Sword, which to Ron's certain knowledge she hadn't seen until just now. This wasn't the time to ask, though. He threw a quick spell into the general melee, grabbed Dean and apparated out.

Moments later he was back, Hermione with him this time. She grabbed Luna and disappeared, while Ron took stock of the situation.

Things seemed to have paused, at least for a moment. Two more Death Eaters were lying still, having evidently fallen victim to the large number of marbles on the floor. As Ron watched, the marbles drifted back towards the far door, presumably under Willow's control, to trip up any more unwary Death Eaters coming for them. Meanwhile, Harry was keeping his wand trained on Bellatrix while trying to keep hold of Dobby with his other hand. Mal— Conrad was standing stiffly beside him, Amy at his shoulder tensed for action. He was facing his parents, who had been disarmed somehow.

"Father, Mother, please come with us," Conrad said. "You know what the Dark Lord is doing is wrong."

Ron stepped back between Willow and Kennedy just in time to hear Willow mutter, "There's a clue in the name." He made sure he was close enough to grab both of them; he could apparate both of them out if he had to, though he didn't fancy his chances of not splinching.

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco," Lucius Malfoy sneered. The effect was ruined in Ron's opinion by his appearance; far from his usual immaculate image, Lucius was unshaven, his hair was a mess and he just looked like a nervous wreck trying to pretend that everything was alright.

"Please, Draco," Narcissa said, and Ron felt a pang. She sounded just like his mother when he told her he was going back to Harry and Hermione. "Your place is with your family."

"And you of all people should know that the Dark Lord's victory over that child is assured," Lucius added.

Conrad shook his head. "That child... this man is one of the best people I have ever known. My place is with him, and with the people who saved me."

Lucius gave him a look of utter contempt. "No son of mine would consort with Mudbloods and Halfbreeds," he sneered. Conrad flinched at the dismissal, but squared his shoulders and stood straight again. Ron cheered inwardly.

Giving a small, sad nod of the head to Lucius, Conrad turned to Narcissa. "Mother?" he pleaded. She looked at him regretfully for a long moment, but eventually lowered her eyes and took a tiny step closer to her husband.

Hermione reappeared. She had managed to get herself turned around somehow — Ron didn't know what it was about transport magic, but somehow it never worked quite right for her — and arrived staring over his shoulder. "Behind you!" she shouted.

Ron ducked and spun, catching sight as he did so of Harry and Conrad both ducking underneath the spell aimed at them. The caster was Peter Pettigrew; the little rat must have sneaked round behind them, Ron thought. He cast a stunner and missed, largely because Kennedy pulled him out of the way of yet another Death Eater's attack. Hermione's stunner didn't miss. Pettigrew went flying and hit the panelled wall with a satisfying thud.

"Retreat to the girls," Ron heard Harry shout over the sound of more spellcasting. A tactically sound idea, Ron thought. Any Death Eaters who managed to follow them to where the other Slayers were gathered would get mobbed pretty rapidly.

Hermione didn't bother to reply, just took hold of Willow and disappeared. Ron grabbed Kennedy's wrist, but turned to check if Harry and Conrad needed any help. "Watch out," he yelled, seeing Bellatrix move.

It all happened incredibly quickly. Bellatrix threw something at Harry as he and Conrad began to apparate out. Dobby pushed himself in the way and Amy moved, but they had all disappeared before Ron could tell what was happening, along with whatever Bellatrix had thrown. Ron followed suit, not wanted to face so many Death Eaters on his own.

He arrived in the clearing to see Harry and the others collapsed in a tangle. By the light of the Muggle torches, Ron could see a white-faced Amy holding an ornate dagger by the blade, its point barely an inch away from Dobby's chest.

"That was too close," Harry said shakily.

"Are you alright?" Conrad asked, looking anxiously between Amy and Dobby.

"I think I cut myself," Amy said faintly. Ron couldn't see any blood dripping, so it couldn't be too bad.

"You're supposed to catch it clean," Kennedy observed as the other Slayers — who Xander had referred to as 'minis' for some reason — helped the fallen foursome upright. "I know it was a lousy angle at the edge of your reach, but you still want to be careful in case—"

"Conrad, I don't feel well," Amy announced and collapsed on her boyfriend.

"In case it's poisoned," Kennedy finished grimly.


	9. Poisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy's been poisoned. Can the assembled company find an antidote before it kills her?

Justin shifted in his seat slightly so his shoulder was more level with Jake's and set his blandest smile on his face. Warren carried on ignoring them both.

That, Justin reflected, was probably half the reason why Warren insisted on being there in the _Dog,_ still going through the books even though it was well past midnight. Jake and Justin weren't important, that was the message Warren's continuing dismissal of them sent. Justin wasn't entirely sure he believed that, not after the way Warren had cornered him that morning, but it was still annoying as all hell.

Jack, on the other hand, got all the false smiles and pleasantries that Justin assumed meant Warren wanted something off him. Jack didn't seem very impressed, but Jake had decided that the pair of them needed to stick around to make sure that Warren didn't wear Jack down. Or drive him into another heart attack for that matter, which frankly looked more likely. Justin had been doing some reading up between druidic crises in the hope of understanding what had happened to Jack. Mostly it had left him painfully aware of how little he knew about biology and medicine, but at least he now knew the warning signs.

There weren't, mercifully, any signs of an imminent heart attack. Justin wasn't happy about how tired Jack looked, though, and debated prodding Jake into forcing the man up to bed. Or more likely going and fetching Frankie to do it, since she was one of the few people who could get away with throwing Warren out on his ear at the same time.

Justin's amusement at that mental image was cut short by a thunderous knocking at the door. "Justin! Jake!"

Jake looked just as surprised as Justin felt, but he levered himself off his chair all the same. Warren looked interested. That couldn't be good, Justin thought as he followed Jake to the door.

It opened on a terrified-looking Conrad. "It's Amy," he said rapidly. "She's been poisoned. Josh said to fetch you. Please, help her."

"Poisoned?" Jake asked. "What happened?"

"My Aunt Bella." Conrad looked at his feet as if he was taking the blame. Justin remembered something about one of Conrad's relatives being a psychopath and immediately decided that he didn't want to know any more.

"We'll be right there," Jake said. When Conrad looked up thankfully, he added, "And you aren't responsible for what your relatives do, especially when they're barking mad." Conrad flushed and fidgeted, but Jake ploughed on. "Seriously, Conrad, this is your aunt's fault, not yours. I know you, and I know you would have stopped her if it was possible. It's not like Amy's defenceless either."

Conrad sagged a little. "She caught the knife," he said quietly, "but we were too far away. It cut her hand."

"See?" Jake said. "Not your fault."

"Please?" Conrad asked. Justin could see the effort it was costing him to hold back the tears.

"Of course," he said with complete sincerity. Jake beamed at him, then turned back to the interior of the _Dog._

It was too much to hope that Warren had ignored all this. Indeed he was standing right behind them, a very interested look on his face. Jack, by contrast, looked appalled.

"Go on, lads," Jack said. "I'll lock up here." He looked significantly at Warren, who ignored him.

"I'll come with you," Warren decided.

"You'll only slow us down," Justin said instantly. There was no way he was letting Warren anywhere near the wizards, or Amy for that matter.

Warren looked frankly sceptical. "I can—" he began.

Jake cut him off. "We haven't got time to argue about this, we're going to be doing a lot of improvising as it is. There's nothing you can do to help, so just leave us be."

"You might as well go home, Warren," Jack said. "This is a fight you'd regret winning."

Warren looked like he had more to say to that, but Jake didn't give him a chance. He bundled himself, Justin and Conrad out of the door and shut it firmly before Warren could follow. "There'll be hell to pay for that," Justin observed mildly.

"We'll survive," Jake replied. "Conrad, get us out of here."

Being apparated, Justin decided, was unpleasantly like being drunk. Through a straw. Still, it got them to Amy's flat quickly, and when he saw what she looked like, Justin regretted wasting any time at all getting there.

Amy was laid out on the sofa, unconscious and feverish. Her right arm up to the elbow was encased in a white glow that Willow seemed to be concentrating on; probably something to stop or slow down the poison. Josh and Ste were hovering near Amy's head, trying not to look scared to death, and Kennedy had Willow's back. That didn't leave a lot of room for Justin, Jake and Conrad, especially when Conrad rushed over to kneel beside Amy and gently stroke her hair. "Kitchen?" Jake suggested. Josh nodded readily, then shared a look with Ste.

"I'll stay here," Ste said unsteadily.

Josh kissed him. "Keep an eye on her?" he asked. The crack in his voice gave away his own fear. Ste gave him a weak smile, then turned his attention back to Amy. Josh closed his eyes for a moment, then turned and lead the way.

Hermione appeared to have taken over half of the kitchen. Several of the work surfaces were covered in chopping boards, knives and bits of ingredients Justin didn't even try to identify. She looked around from an honest-to-God cauldron on the stove as Kennedy shut the door behind them. "Any change?" she asked.

Kennedy shook her head. "Willow's stasis spell is holding for now. Where are the boys?"

"I sent them off to deal with the people we rescued before they ruined any more silverroot."

Kennedy snorted. "I know exactly what you mean."

"Do you know what the poison is yet?" Josh asked.

"I think so," Hermione said grimly. "This test should prove it."

Justin watched as Hermione gingerly picked up a wicked-looking dagger with tongs, then passed her wand over it repeatedly until a tiny black drop formed at the tip. The little bead of poison was allowed to fall into the cauldron, which promptly belched out a burst of neon orange flame.

"I thought as much," Hermione muttered as she turned off the gas and stepped away from the stove. "It's an old-fashioned poison called Night's Tears. Professor Snape made us study it two years ago. It attacks everything but the nervous system, so the victim is conscious and aware as their body stops working. It's supposed to be the most painful thing short of the _cruciatus_ curse."

"Lovely," Josh said. "Do you have an antidote for it?"

Hermione hesitated. "There is a cure, and thanks to Ms Rosenberg's prompt spell we can make it in time, but it does have severe side-effects. I'm afraid Amy will suffer irreversible nerve damage, perhaps even lose the use of that hand."

"Not acceptable," Josh said flatly. He looked at Justin.

"What?" Justin asked defensively.

"This is your area," Josh said with an alarming level of conviction. "What do we do?"

"Josh, I've read one book on heart conditions, and I didn't understand most of that. I'm not an expert."

"But you have a knack for healing," Josh insisted. "You were the one who understood how to heal Harry's wand."

"That's not the same! People are complicated, I don't know where to start even."

"You didn't know how to mend a stick before we tried that," Jake pointed out. "You can do this, Justin, I know you can."

Justin looked at his other half and felt a familiar sinking feeling. He didn't want to let Jake down by refusing to do this, not when Jake was the first person to really believe in him, but this scared him. He genuinely didn't know what he was doing, and if he got anything wrong he would kill Amy.

Josh put a hand on Justin's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Amy will die if we don't do something," he said.

Justin sighed. Amy wouldn't die if they used Hermione's cure, but being crippled would be nearly as bad for someone as active as she had become. He had to at least try to find an alternative.

"OK," he said, "we might as well get the ingredients together for the magic-seeing spell. That should help us figure something out." Josh nodded and moved to the cupboard where one of the group's many stashes of incense was now kept. "Oh, and get lots of sage too. I reckon we're going to need a lot of cleansing. Unless something like that is going to make things worse?" he asked.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "It might," she said. "The poison is sensitive to destructive magics as a deliberate intrinsic enchantment. Attempting to destroy it sets up a feedback loop that reflects the harm back at the caster. It's really very elegant... in a horrifying way," she finished quickly.

"Sounds nasty," Jake agreed, "but as long as we don't try the cleansing on the actual poison we should be OK."

Several minutes later, after a few drops of blood and an awful lot of sage smoke, they had cobbled together a ritual to let them see what was going on inside a human body. Justin expected it to be something like staring down a microscope in science class, a load of mysterious blobs doing inexplicable things to other blobs. Looking at Kennedy, what he saw was nothing like that. Instead, it was like looking at buildings and towns instead of cells and organs, connected together by gleaming roads (the blood stream) and shining power cables (nerves). Justin watched in fascination as a swarm of white blood cells his mind couldn't help but see as police cars laid down the law to some unwelcome bacteria.

"Hey, I know I'm irresistible," Kennedy said, "but you're so not my type, kiddo."

Justin had to blink a few times before he could see her as a person rather than a living city, and he and Jake needed help to make it into the living room without bumping into anything. Once he was there, the difference in Amy's hand was obvious. Even through the fog Willow's spell imposed he could see that the buildings were damaged, often to the point of ruin. The invading poison looked like some kind of B-movie monsters rampaging through the city, and Amy's defenders were being overwhelmed at every turn. Justin watched as, slowed to a crawl by the stasis spell, a Godzilla-like monster casually stepped on what must have been a while blood cell before it knocked a chunk out of a building.

The more Justin focused down, the more he could understand what the invaders were doing. He watched them turn away from the power line nerves, even retracing their steps if they had to, and doing complicated dances to avoid each other. That gave Justin an idea so obvious he couldn't believe it hadn't been tried. With difficulty he hauled his attention back to the real world and asked, "Is there any way we can get the poison to attack itself?"

"That's basically what the antidote does," Hermione explained. "Unfortunately one of the breakdown products is extremely damaging to the nervous system, and the counter-agents for that tend to destroy the antidote."

Sort of a scissors-paper-stone situation, Justin translated for himself. Every attack had a weakness. "How about fooling it that everything is nerves or poison?" he tried.

Hermione shook her head. "Trying to modify the intrinsic enchantments is as bad as trying to modify the substance. The only wizard to try it became allergic to himself for a while, and nearly died."

"Ew!" Right at the moment Justin found it easy to imagine how that would happen. The cell-buildings would be at war with each other, with the 'emergency services' attacking what they were supposed to protect.

"How about faking what it sees?" Josh suggested. "That wouldn't be doing anything to the poison."

"But that's impossible," Hermione protested. "Illusions are really hard, and making one convincing on that fine a scale and replicating it across an entire body... Nothing of that level of detail has ever been attempted."

"But..." Justin could imagine arming all those white blood cells with mirrors, fooling the monsters with reflections of themselves. If only he could figure out what the mirrors actually were, and how to keep them from attacking. No, it was crazy.

Josh of course didn't let it rest, and once he had got Justin to confess what he'd thought of he came up with five ideas for what to do next in as many minutes. Justin was able to shoot three of them down straight away; he wasn't sure exactly why, but he just knew somehow that the resulting mirrors would be too dull to work. A phone call to Andrew disposed of one more that just wouldn't hang together as a ritual. That left one option that might produce a good enough illusion if they were extremely careful about their timing and positioning. And that still left the problem of stopping Amy's defences from going on a futile attack.

While Josh hashed out the details of the ritual, Justin let his sight drift back into that weird cityscape view of Amy. There had to be some way to control Amy's defences, he thought; some equivalent to a police station to issue them orders.

He was surprised to get a completely different, much more abstract view this time. Everything appeared as blobs, coloured according to their different types. Justin had no trouble making out the white blobs of white blood cells, the electric blue of nerves, and so on. The strange thing, the thing that impressed itself on Justin as just plain wrong, was the glow that surrounded everything except the jet black particles of poison. It was like everything in Amy had this connection that went _out_ in some weird way... Oh.

"Willow, Xander said something about you having a connection to all the Slayers?" Justin asked.

"Kinda," Willow said distractedly. "I mean, I cast the activation spell."

"Could you influence how Amy's immune system works?"

Willow blinked. The stasis spell wavered for a moment, making Justin's heart skip a beat. "At the level of detail you're talking about? I don't know. I mean, I kind of supercharged Ken's healing once, but that was just letting it go do its thing."

"It's still a link," Justin mused. If Willow couldn't do it directly, maybe someone could piggyback on her connection and order the defences around that way. It would be tricky, though. Willow's brand of magic didn't work like theirs, as Andrew kept proving. Whoever lead that part of the ritual would have to be really in tune with her, would have to know her so well that they didn't need to think about what she was doing. "Xander," he said. "We need Xander and Andrew."

"Oh, yes," Willow said excitedly. "He's Amy's Watcher, plus he's got that whole soldier thing going on—"

"Hon, your spell," Kennedy interrupted as the glow around Amy's hand flickered alarmingly.

As Willow buckled down to concentrating again, Justin turned to Conrad. He hated to ask anything of the man who had raped Jake, even if Conrad hadn't had any choice in the matter. Still, they needed Xander, and apparation was the fastest way to get him here, so since Hermione was busy carefully removing all the remaining poison from the knife, that just left Conrad. And gave Justin an idea he needed to talk through with Hermione. First things first; "Conrad," he began, "could you—"

The door opened abruptly and Xander hurried in, closely followed by Andrew, Craig and John Paul. "The gang's all here," he said with strained cheeriness, and tossed a set of car keys to Kennedy.

"Never mind," Justin told Conrad. "Hermione, can I have a word?"

Filling Xander in on what he was needed for took time, as did hammering out the details of what exactly that meant. By the time they were done and Josh and Andrew had scared up everything they would need, Willow was beginning to look tired. Their time was nearly up, Justin reckoned; Willow didn't really have to do anything to be their link with Amy, but she did need to be awake and preferably alert.

"We'll need to do this outside," Jake observed.

Josh nodded. "It would be easiest in the Grove."

"Too far," Justin said, thinking of how long Willow would be able to hold up. They were right, though; magic did work better for them out of doors, or at least in natural surroundings. "We'll have to use the garden."

"I'll get the tent out of the way," Hermione said and headed for the back door.

"Good," Josh said decisively. He turned to Conrad and asked, "Do you have any good ways of carrying her gently out there?"

"Yes," Conrad squeaked. The poor kid looked terrified still, Justin thought, and somehow that helped banish some of his own fear. He watched as Conrad pulled out his wand and waved it ever so gently over Amy. Slowly and carefully, Amy was levitated up off the sofa.

"Right, let's get to it then," Ste said brusquely. Justin wasn't fooled for a moment; Ste just wanted to do something to stop himself panicking.

"OK," he said. "Xander, Andrew, can you guide Willow? You take the lead. Conrad, I want Amy following them head first, and you three follow behind. Let's make this a proper procession."

And they did. It was amazing how much simply walking in line calmed down Ste, Josh and Conrad. Hell, it was amazing how much calmer Justin felt himself now they were officially starting, even if they hadn't yet chanted a word.

Out in the garden, it was immediately obvious to Justin that lowering Amy to the ground wasn't going to be much better than doing the whole thing indoors. Apparently fences screwed up their kind of magic nearly as badly as walls. At least fences weren't so high; Justin quickly directed Conrad to line Amy up about four feet off the ground in what seemed to be the right direction. "That's good enough," he said eventually. "Hold her there." Conrad gave him a short nod and squared his shoulders. Justin couldn't help but smile at his determination; Amy wasn't going to budge an inch if Conrad could help it.

Taking an already smouldering bowl of incense from Jake, Justin began the ritual proper. It was simple enough to start with, pretty much the magical equivalent of washing down the area so that it was clean, then setting John Paul and Craig off walking around the edge of the garden to make sure it stayed that way. It was a bit cramped, and Justin wasn't sure anyway just how much good the cleansing would do, but it couldn't hurt.

The next step was much trickier. While the others kept the flow of magic smooth and steady, Justin and Jake carefully wove their spell into Amy's body. Bit by bit, painfully slowly, Justin watched as Amy's nerves and cells started to mimic what was around them. It wasn't a perfect illusion by any means, but they kept working until Justin was convinced that it was good enough. The acid test would be when it came up against the poison, but that couldn't happen until Willow took her stasis spell down. Justin didn't dare extend his spell into Willow's for fear of destabilising both of them; all he could do was try his hardest and hope for the best.

Finally he ran out of excuses. The spell was stable, he and Jake were braced, and there was no more that could be done before the next phase. Justin allowed just enough of his attention to come back to reality to say, "OK, Willow, drop it now." Then he dived back in to take his share of the load.

Amy's hand became a battleground the moment Willow's spell lifted. Their own spell was keeping the poison from spreading, Justin was pleased to see, but he didn't dare spread it through the fighting until they had enough control to stop Amy's immune system making things worse by attacking the invaders.

Then the magic bucked under him, and suddenly Justin found himself working like mad to stop the whole ritual from falling apart. Xander and Andrew had made the link to Willow and forged the path they needed for control, but the extra flow of magic was too much. Willow's connection to the Slayers was a much deeper, more personal thing than Justin had realised, and simply using it built up the power flows in ways he hadn't bargained on. Willow herself anchored the power as it entered the ritual, and Justin and Jake could just about keep control of the centre, but even with Craig and John Paul rushing in to help, Josh and Ste were fighting a losing battle. Their end of the spell was thrashing around like a high pressure hose determined to get free. They needed another anchor, Justin thought wildly, something solid with a connection to Amy that they could use to hold down the power flows leaving the spell, something that like Willow wasn't part of the ritual proper.

"Conrad! Use Conrad!" Justin wasn't sure he actually said the words aloud, but Josh seemed to hear him all the same. Justin was too busy trying to hold things together to tell exactly what Josh and Ste did, but a few seconds later things calmed down to the point where Justin could do more than just cling on and hope.

There was no time to rest, though. The moment he could, Justin picked up the thread of control Xander and Andrew had introduced and wove it quickly into the ritual. As he gave the orders for Amy's defences to pull back he could feel Jake racing behind him, pushing their illusion through the poisoned area until finally, suddenly, it was complete.

As he and Jake came back together, Justin paused to take stock. It was beautiful, he decided. Their spell seemed to have overlaid Amy's cells with silver and white, like one of those gleaming old SciFi films. The black blobs of poison reflected off everything, strangely distorted but apparently good enough to fool them into not attacking. It was bizarre, but beautiful.

Herding the poison back to the wound site was a slow business, not made any easier by the way the magic flow still twisted and bucked despite all the efforts of the other druids. Justin fretted about how tired the others must be getting, but they were still hanging in there when he and Jake finished. Once again Justin carefully passed the weight of the spell over to Jake and let himself surface. "Your turn," he told Hermione. "Draw it out."

Hermione must have waited for him to take his burden back off Jake, because it wasn't until he was good and settled that he felt her magic at work. Despite the fact that it was a very light, low-powered summoning charm, something Hermione had been at pains to point out earlier, Justin still felt it brush harshly across the spell he was maintaining. It felt like being attacked with a cheese grater. Justin was incredibly glad to be able to lean on Jake for support, and support him in turn. It made the friction so much easier to bear.

Eventually, after much careful manoeuvring to make sure every molecule of poison was gone, Justin called a halt. He and Jake braced one final time as first Xander and Andrew released the connection to Willow, then Josh and Ste let go of Conrad. They watched as their spells unwove and blew away on the wind, and Amy's body began to repair itself with the startling speed of Slayer healing. Then they turned as one to face into the flow of magic, gave silent thanks that it had worked, and opened their eyes.

Justin nearly stumbled when the weight of the ritual lifted off him. In front of him, Xander and Andrew did slump against Willow, who was looking pretty exhausted herself. He looked at Jake across Amy's still-floating body and broke into a big, weary grin. They had really done it; they had concocted a spell to deal with a nasty magical poison, and pulled it off on a wing and a prayer. It would have been easier if he knew more about how bodies worked, Justin understood that much. That was a problem he could fix, though; the library was bound to have more books on basic biology, and Justin found himself eager to find out more about the things he had glimpsed as they worked. If school had been this hands-on, he thought, he would have done a hell of a lot better at his exams.

Behind him, he heard John Paul say, "We're all done, Conrad. You can put her down now." He turned to watch as Conrad gently lowered Amy onto the grass and hurried to her side. His face was streaked with tears, and just for once Justin had to sympathise with him. That had been one hell of a scary experience.

"Conrad?" Amy said weakly, struggling to sit up.

"I'm here," Conrad sniffled, helping to support her. "Oh Amy, I was so scared that I'd lost you. I didn't know what I'd do if... Amy, I... I..." Apparently lost for words, Conrad took Amy's face in his hands and kissed her.

"About time," Jake murmured.

Justin looked askance at his other half. He would never understand how Jake could stand to be anywhere near Conrad, but here he was practically cheering him on. "You are such a soft-hearted git," he said.

"Lucky for you," Jake replied. Justin returned the grin ruefully. He was incredibly lucky that Jake allowed him anywhere near after the damage they had done to each other. After what Justin had done to Becca. He should learn from that, Justin realised; he might not understand how Jake could forgive Conrad, but Jake had, and for Justin to carry on hating the kid was just plain hypocritical.

"OK, I give in," he sighed. Jake's grin got even wider, and he leant over to kiss Justin on the forehead.

Well, it was a start.


	10. The Horcrux of the Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giles has documents. Buffy has coffee. Gringotts has a headache.

Xander set the phone down in the middle of the table. "OK, Giles, you're on speaker."

"Ah, thank you, Xander," the phone said in a tinny rendition of Giles's voice. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen."

A tired chorus of greetings ran round the Ashworths' kitchen table. No one seemed to be particularly awake after last night's excitement, not even Willow on the wrong side of a cup of coffee. Amy was still recovering her strength, of course, which was why they were at the Ashworths' in the first place. Conrad was absent, refusing to leave Amy's side. Of the druids, only Josh and Xander were present; Andrew had been commandeered by Kennedy to brief the mini-Slayers, Ste had volunteered himself to babysit for Amy, and the others hadn't really wanted or needed to join in. All three of the wizards were there at least, and Xander hoped that Ron and Harry had more information now that they had talked to the rescuees. And apparently Giles had something to say himself. "So what's the big news, boss man?" Xander asked.

"Ah yes. We've uncovered some very interesting documents in the Council's archives," Giles said. "There appear to be a number of quite detailed treaties between the old Council and the leadership of the wand-using community regarding supernatural menaces, jurisdictions and so on. Obviously they haven't been invoked since the wizards went into their self-imposed seclusion, but... yes, yes, Buffy, I do have a point. Suffice it to say that the Council is empowered to interfere in wizardrical affairs, and vice-versa, but only if strict criteria are met. Hence, unfortunately, this phone call; as Chairman of the Council, I am required to satisfy myself personally that the conditions have been met."

"Doesn't that put you in a sticky position over last night's raid?" Josh asked.

"We can fudge the issue to a certain extent," Giles admitted. "What Xander and Andrew do as druids isn't necessarily the Council's business, and of course young Amy is quite entitled to help her boyfriend. We might have some trouble explaining away Willow and Kennedy's presence, but we should have something legally plausible sorted out before anyone thinks to protest. However if we are going to commit serious resources we need to have all our i's dotted and our t's crossed."

"And are you going to commit serious resources?" Harry asked cynically. Xander held back his automatic reply; they needed to hear this from Giles himself.

"Of course we are, young man," Giles said promptly. "I'd just rather not start another war in the process."

"So what do you need to make it official?" Xander asked while the wizards digested that.

Fifteen minutes of heated discussion concluded that Voldemort was still at least technically human rather than demonic, wasn't employing demonic creatures and couldn't be proved to be behind the random attacks across the country. "He's still going after the Elder Wand," Ron tried dubiously.

"Sadly it's not the Council's job to keep madmen away from dangerous weapons," Willow said. She pouted, clearly unhappy with that idea.

"Besides," Harry interrupted, "he's found it. I felt his excitement last night. He finally figured out that Dumbledore had been using it for years, and grabbed it out of his tomb."

There was a brief silence. "Well," Giles said eventually, "that is decidedly inconvenient. We can continue investigating the attacks, of course, but since we don't find out about them until after your police — sorry, Aurors — have been crawling over them for hours that isn't very likely to bear much fruit. Beyond that we are stuck with more nebulous terms that are considerably harder to prove. Unless you happen to know that this Dark Lord has literally sold his soul to some creature for additional power?"

Xander didn't think anything of the way Ron snorted at the question. Not until Hermione glanced at him nervously and Harry nudged him hard, causing Ron to look guilty. Interesting. "Guys, is there something you'd like to share with the class? Has Mouldywarts sold his soul?"

"He hasn't sold it," Harry said shortly.

"Harry," Ron began, but Harry cut him off.

"Dumbledore wanted it kept secret," he said, "and he was right. This stuff is best forgotten."

"Sure," Xander snorted, "that always works. No one else could possibly discover it all on their own." He shook his head in exasperation. "You can't put the genie back in the bottle, guys. Well you can, but there's lots of blood and screaming, and in a couple of centuries some other sucker will open it and you've got the same problem all over again."

"Thank you, Xander," Giles said drily. "Should I presume we are talking something along the lines of the Russian stories of wizards who hid their souls in an egg or a stone, or something like that, so they couldn't be killed?"

"I need to read those stories," Josh murmured. Which was true, actually, and Xander realised he'd better do something about that once life wasn't so crazy. Otherwise Josh would go hunting for supernatural sources on his own, which couldn't end well.

"Oh, like Koschei the Undying," Willow put in. "The trouble with that is that either you carry your soul object around with you, which kind of defeats the point, or you hide it. If you do that, somebody always finds it and pfft! You're dead and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I'm guessing from all the grim looks, it's not so easy," Xander said.

"There's more than one of them," Ron said, stubbornly ignoring Harry's attempts to stop him, "and they're nearly indestructible."

More than one? "Come again?" Xander asked.

"They need to know," Hermione told Harry reluctantly. "They've already got the basic idea."

Harry slumped in his seat. "They're called horcruxes. You perform a ritual in which you kill someone, tear off part of your soul and put it in an object. Then you can't die, not really, not while the horcrux still exists."

"Tear off?" Giles mused. There was a sound of shuffling papers. "Here we are, 'Consorting with the powers of the lower planes... worshipping...' Ah, here we are. 'Or other activities injurious to the soul.'"

"Ripping part of your soul off sounds pretty injurious to me," Willow said, looking revolted by the whole idea.

"Probably more literal than was intended, but for once the florid language works for us," Giles remarked. "And the human sacrifice takes care of the more metaphorical meaning, excellent."

"Could you sound a little less enthusiastic?" Xander asked. Human sacrifices were still a sore point with the druids.

"Sorry, Xander, that was thoughtless of me."

"Before we get all excited," Willow put in, "do you guys have any proof that the big bad has made one of these horcruxes?"

Harry gave a short, bitter laugh. "He made six of them," he said. Xander shuddered. Ripping one piece off your soul sounded bad enough. Doing it six times... How much soul did this guy have left?

"We've destroyed two of them," Ron added. "Well, Dumbledore did for one, but we can still show them to you."

"Three," Harry corrected. "Riddle's Diary was one. I destroyed that years ago."

"And we think we know where another one is," Hermione added. "Helga Hufflepuff's Cup."

Willow frowned. "Crazy woman said something about a cup when she was freaking out about your sword."

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Harry agreed. "Unfortunately from what she said it's in her bank vault. Unless you fancy trying to break into Gringotts, we can't do anything about it."

"Gringotts?" Giles asked.

"The Wizarding bank," Hermione replied. "It's been run by the goblins for centuries."

"Goblins, you say. Buffy, could you pass me that folder... Thank you. There was something about cursed items... No, here it is, a contract between Gringotts and the Council." Giles was quiet for a moment. "It appears that the bank has the right to call upon the Watchers to make investigations in the mundane world," he said eventually. "In return the Council can demand that the bank yield up cursed objects provided the Council can demonstrate... hmm..." There were more paper-shuffling noises. "Ah, this commentary makes things a little clearer. Apparently it doesn't mean 'cursed' in the conventional sense. The word translates more closely as 'irrevocably perverted from its creator's design.'"

"Making it one of these horcrux things should count," Josh said with a grimace. "What about the other two?"

Hermione straightened up; Xander sensed a lecture in his near future. "We're fairly certain that the fifth horcrux is in Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem. We don't know where it is, but it seems like our best chance of finding it will be at Hogwarts School."

"OK, so you guys go to school, hopefully find out what you need to find out, then go all 'Hulk smash' on the diadem," Xander summarised. "Aaand once again I'm getting those looks."

"The school is under the control of the Death Eaters now," Harry told him. "Some of the staff are friendly, but all of the new teachers would just drag us straight to You-Know-Who."

"I never trusted Snape," Ron muttered.

"There are secret passages from the school to Hogsmeade, the nearby village," Hermione said, "but the Death Eaters are bound to know where most of them are. Sneaking in isn't going to be easy."

"And the last one?" Josh prompted.

Hermione hesitated. "We don't know," she admitted. "He wanted to use Gryffindor's Sword, but he couldn't get his hands on it. We have no idea what he used instead."

"Great," Xander said despondently. Then a thought occurred to him and he brightened. "Our books aren't going to be much help with that."

"I'm sure you'll find plenty of research to do, Xander," Giles said with more of that British dryness. "I'll have the relevant documents drawn up, and with luck Buffy and I will deal with the Cup this afternoon. I'll pass on your news about the rescued goblin, if that's all right with you?"

"That would be great, Mr Giles," Harry said. "Be careful with the goblins, though, they're not exactly trustworthy."

"I gathered as much from the annotations on the contract."

Xander smiled as he picked up the phone and said the final farewells. It felt just like the old days, with Giles organising them and pulling unexpected knowledge out of thin air. Xander felt hugely reassured. With all of them working on the problem, they were bound to succeed.

Meanwhile, he really ought to check how his Slayer was getting on. That it would get him out of the inevitable grilling Willow and Josh were going to start about horcruxes was pure coincidence.

******

"Wow, I feel positively under-dressed."

Buffy stared at the scene that the shifting wall revealed in disbelief. She had seen the weird and wonderful in a variety of demonic forms, but she had never seen anything to match the fashion disasters walking around in Diagon Alley. "Are they colourblind or something?"

"Please control your urge to offer them advice," Giles said primly. "We are trying not to draw premature attention to ourselves."

"Fat chance of that," Buffy murmured as they stepped out into the street. The two of them were the only sanely dressed people in the entire place, even if Giles had insisted on wearing a suit. They were bound to be noticed.

They did attract stares, though not as many as Buffy expected. There was probably some kind of reverse Sunnydale effect going on, she decided. The fashion-challenged here were paying no more attention to her stylish Dolce & Gabana outfit than the average Sunnydaler had to slightly weird people hanging around in the shadows. She felt obscurely disappointed, as if the assembled witches and wizards should have somehow acknowledged how well-dressed she was.

The moment they stepped inside the marble-and-brass Bank — hello, tacky! — that all changed. The creepy little goblins didn't exactly all turn and stare at her, but they did keep careful and not very subtle track of where she was and what she did. That was much more satisfactory. Buffy plastered on her best fake-innocent expression just to unnerve them some more.

Giles marched them up to a tall writing desk, presumably set up so the goblin behind it could stare down at Buffy-sized people. In his very best formal English voice, Giles explained that he required to see someone on a contractual matter and handed over papers that the legal team had had way too much fun preparing. Buffy smiled for added emphasis. The goblin sneered at Giles, cast an apprehensive look at Buffy, and made a great show of studying the papers. For about five seconds. Then his eyes bulged and he looked back at Giles with something much more satisfyingly like fear. Buffy would have snapped a picture if Giles hadn't been so insistent on not showing modern technology to the wizards.

"Please wait here," the goblin said with an impressive amount of sneering for someone so obviously scared. He was back less than a minute after climbing down from his pedestal and scurrying off, all smiles and obsequious grovelling this time. What an honour it was to receive the respected chairman, the branch manager would be available momentarily, all that sort of stuff. Buffy found it all quite amusing until the little toady suggested that 'the chairman's assistant' could sit in the waiting area.

"Now, now, Buffy," Giles said after she objected. "I'm afraid you would find the negotiations terribly dull. I will need your help to deal with the, er, core of the problem, but until then you should relax. Have a cup of tea."

Buffy made a face. "Coffee," she said firmly. "And maybe some of those little biscuits?"

Giles rolled his eyes fondly before allowing himself to be lead off, leaving Buffy to find her own way to the waiting area. As she sat herself down next to a Morticia Addams lookalike, a silver coffee service and fragile-looking china cups appeared on the table beside her. There were no biscuits.

Buffy poured herself a cup of coffee, then looked at it dubiously. It smelled OK, but she wasn't entirely convinced about coffee that just got magicked into existence. Making really good coffee was an art, she had discovered, and those goblins hadn't impressed her as the sort of people who cared much about making an effort for other people. See for example the lack of biscotti. Steeling herself, she took a sip.

"That's... actually not bad," she said in surprise.

The woman sitting next to her gave her the smallest of smiles. "Spoken like a true connoisseur," she said.

"Rome spoiled me," Buffy admitted.

"You should try Milan, dear, they take far greater care with the grinding."

"Oh, I know, I found this little place... I'm sorry, would you like a cup?" That at least earned her a full smile.

Once they were adequately caffeinated, Morticia — whose name was actually Narcissa, though Buffy fully expected to forget that within minutes — turned out to be surprisingly easy to talk with. Once Buffy got past the British stuffiness, something she now had years of practice at, it turned out that the two of them had very similar tastes. "I wish — I mean it's a shame I don't have the figure to carry that off," Buffy said, casting envious eyes at Narcissa's stylish gown.

Narcissa nodded in acceptance of the compliment. "But you wear what you wear with elegance and grace," she observed. "Attitude is everything, my dear."

Buffy thought of Dawn. "Oh God, yes. Somehow my sister makes everything look like T-shirts and jeans." Which might not be entirely true, but it was close enough for a big sister to say so.

"I know what you mean," Narcissa said with a shudder. "I had thought my husband made of sterner stuff, but with the stress of recent unpleasantness he has been coming down to breakfast unshaven."

"The horror!" Buffy agreed. "Do you have children?"

She was only making conversation, so she didn't really expect the troubled look that covered Narcissa's face. "Draco... has been having a difficult time," Narcissa said carefully.

That was a familiar name, Buffy thought, even if she couldn't place it immediately. "Don't tell me he's been coming down for breakfast without shaving too," she said, playing for time.

Narcissa hesitated. "He had been missing for several months," she eventually admitted. "I only recently discovered he was still alive."

Bingo, Buffy thought. She looked carefully at Narcissa Malfoy, Conrad's mother, and decided to take the risky approach. "I understand he was in a seriously bad place," she said sympathetically, "but he's recovered remarkably well. A week ago he wouldn't have dared to stand up to you."

Narcissa's composure shattered. "What do you know?" she demanded. "Tell me! Tell me, or—"

"He's fine," Buffy interrupted before Narcissa could start on the embarrassing threats. "His girlfriend's pretty much recovered from that nasty poison your sister was throwing about. The perks of knowing some very creative people, I guess." She paused, giving Narcissa as reassuring a smile as she could. "And no, I'm not going to tell you where he is. That would kind of defeat the point of him hiding away."

"Hiding won't help," Narcissa snapped. "Now that the Dark Lord knows Draco has thrown his lot in with Potter, he will find him eventually."

"He hasn't done that great at finding Harry so far," Buffy pointed out. Still, she made a mental note to ask Willow about warding spells. "Look, your son has three different groups looking out for him. Granted one bunch is new, and... I was going to call Harry young, but I'd already stopped my first apocalypse by his age."

"You have no conception of what you are dealing with," Narcissa insisted.

"Oh believe me, we do," Buffy sighed. "My friends and I, we've taken down a god. It wasn't easy or pretty, but we did it. I can believe this dark lord of yours is powerful, but we really have faced worse."

That at least seemed to get through. "He's safe?" Narcissa finally asked. 'He' obviously being her son of the varying name, which so wasn't a thing to start worrying his mother with right now.

"I'll just say yes and leave it at that," Buffy told her. "The fewer people who know the details, the safer he is. Is that your sister heading towards us?"

Narcissa visibly pulled herself together without looking over. "Do not breathe a word of this conversation to her," she murmured before standing to greet the frankly scary-looking witch stalking across the floor towards them. "Bella, darling, I trust your business has concluded satisfactorily?"

"As well as could be expected," Bellatrix replied shortly. She gave Buffy one dismissive glance before sailing off, dragging her sister along in her wake. Buffy was glad she hadn't even needed to smile and nod to the woman. Bellatrix seemed to be as bat-shit crazy as her name was weird, and Buffy really hadn't wanted to end up in a fight with her in a public place. Getting away after winning might have been tricky.

Not many minutes later, before Buffy got bored enough to start poking Things Man Was Not Meant To Break, another goblin flunky stormed up and informed her that the branch manager required her presence. Now. Rude much, she thought, but being warned that the goblins would try to make her lose her temper, she just smiled and took her time following him. And if her smile had more teeth than normal, well that was purest accident.

The branch manager's office, when she finally got there, was kind of cosy. Goblins definitely didn't seem to go in for the "Bigger is Better" theory of decorating; with the manager, his flunky, Giles and herself all in the office, there wasn't much room to manoeuvre. Fortunately it didn't look like she would need to do anything drastic, at least not in a hurry, since although Giles was looking all serious Mr Chairman, his body language was very much relaxed and unthreatened. The manager goblin, on the other hand, was pretty much vibrating with fury as he stared at the golden cup on the table. Buffy couldn't blame him; the thing was giving her the wiggins too.

"This is an abomination!" the manager raged.

Giles sat back with his cup of tea. "Mr Longclaw would like to have the cup destroyed, Buffy," he said. "The method we discussed earlier should work."

Buffy nodded. The wizard kids had said these horcrux things were nearly indestructible, but they had destructed one by hitting it with a magic sword. The Scythe should be up to the job. She put the goblet down on the floor — no sense damaging the table — and waited until Giles had scooted out of the way before reaching out and grasping thin air.

She was a little surprised to get the Scythe on her first try. The little pocket of space that Willow had created as a kind of sheath was tricky to reach into, and Buffy didn't always grasp it right first time. Still, there was nothing to beat it when it came to wandering around armed without looking like it. Walking around in the alley with the Scythe out in the open would have caused comment, quite apart from not going with her outfit.

Buffy raised the Scythe and was poised to strike when she noticed something move in the gleaming reflections of the cup. Quickly she whirled, ready to lash out at... the completely empty space behind her? Buffy swept gently across with the flat of the blade, but she didn't touch anything, or hear any footsteps getting out of the way either. There really was nothing there. "Huh," she said. "I could have sworn..." She turned back and looked carefully into the cup. It was hard to be sure what with all the distortion, but the only reflection she could see was her own. Except that she didn't have glowing red eyes.

_"Slayer."_ The word slid into her brain like an oil slick. _"The one that came back broken. You pretend to be so high and mighty, but you lead those girls to their deaths. And still you call more and more to fight and die. You're no better than—"_

The voice was cut off in a scream and an explosion of darkness. When the smoke cleared, Buffy could see that the tip of the Scythe had gone clean through the cup and buried itself in the stone floor. She was too angry to care.

"I had the First Evil trying to out-psyche me," she snarled at the now dead metal. "Compared to that, Tommy boy, you were strictly second rate." She pulled the Scythe free and let it go back into its pocket dimension. Only then did she notice the frozen looks of awe and fear on the goblins' faces. "Um, sorry about the rug," she offered.

Giles broke the moment, noisily setting his teacup on its saucer before placing them on the desk. "Thank you for you co-operation in this matter," he said to the goblins as if this was nothing unusual.

"It was our duty," Longclaw growled, though rather more deferentially than before. "What was done to Goldweaver's masterwork was inexcusable vandalism."

Giles gave Buffy a warning glance, enough to stop her saying anything sarcastic about the slimy horcrux stuff being bad news anywhere. "Regrettably it is not the only item to have been abused," he sighted. "Tell me, what do you know of the diadem made for Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Kraklaw's Lost Crown?" the goblin gasped. "You have news of it?"

"Only that our sources believe Riddle has, ah, mistreated it. I take it that you do not know its location?"

Longclaw looked disgusted. "Wizards have kept it from its rightful owners for centuries. How reliable are your sources?"

"Their deductions seem sound," Giles replied smoothly. He looked like he was enjoying himself playing the diplomat, Buffy thought. He didn't get so many concussions this way either.

The bank manager sat in thought for a moment before apparently coming to a decision. "Gringotts wishes to invoke its rights under contract," he said. "The Council is to locate Kraklaw's Crown. If it is accursed as you say, it should be destroyed and proof given to the bank. Otherwise the crown must be returned to its rightful owners under Goblin Law."

"Uh, while that gets a big yay from me," Buffy said, "can we actually do that?"

Giles looked dubious. "I'm afraid our authority—"

"The Council is obliged to act for the bank in the human world," Longclaw snapped. "That is the agreement."

"The human world," Giles repeated, thunderstruck. He reached into his briefcase, pulled out a sheaf of papers and studied them intently for a moment. "Yes, I suppose that is a viable translation," he murmured, "and legally speaking..."

"So can we do that?" Buffy asked when it became clear Giles was disappearing into a world of his own.

"What? Oh, sorry. Yes, we would definitely have the authority as the bank's agents, Buffy. Unfortunately I don't think we can fudge the issue of informing the Ministry of Magic of our involvement any more."

"And that's bad because?"

"If you recall, the current Minister is one of Riddle's men. I hardly think that informing him of our intention to destroy part of his master's soul will make our job any easier."

"So we don't tell the big cheese," Buffy suggested. "Can't we find some junior paper-pusher we can intimidate into forgetting to file a report for a month or two?"

"They would still have to be an official part of the Office of the Minister," Giles countered. Buffy scowled. It wasn't like that had a directory to tell them who worked where in the Ministry, and actually wandering in wasn't going to be a good idea with Mouldywart's minions all over the place.

"One moment," Longclaw said. His assistant leaned in to whisper something in his ear. Longclaw smiled toothily and nodded. "We are aware of a suitable bureaucrat," he said. "In the interest of expediting Gringott's business, he is being called in for an accounting."

"Wow," Buffy said. "I guess you really know your Ministry people. How soon will he get here?"

Longclaw smirked. "Swiftly," he said, "if he values his vault."

Sure enough, five minutes later there was a small commotion outside the office door. Buffy put down her replacement cup of coffee (still no biscotti) as a flustered young man was ushered in. "There must be some mistake," he began immediately. "I barely even..." He trailed off as he noticed Buffy and Giles sitting there. The poor kid looked terrified.

"We apologise for the ruse," Giles said in his most teeth-achingly polite voice. "Would you be so kind as to confirm your name and position in the Ministry?"

"P-Percival Weasley, sir. I'm the Assistant to the Junior Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, I'm nobody important." Another familiar name, Buffy thought. Two in one day, what were the odds?

"Excellent," Giles said. Buffy gave him a stern look; he was enjoying himself way too much, and that had been perilously close to a Mr Burns impression. "Now, Mr Weasley, we have an announcement that needs to be made to the Ministry. In the current circumstances, however, it would be most unfortunate if this announcement came to the attention of the Minister too swiftly. Do you understand?"

Panicked Percy gulped audibly and nodded. Giles's smile reached positively shark-like proportions.

The way the kid reacted as Giles did the formal speechifying was encouraging, Buffy thought. He straightened up when it became obvious that Giles was talking about He Who Magicked His Own Name (Seriously, Vain Much?), and Buffy got the distinct impression that this Weasley wasn't a fan of Tommy the Unmentionable either. Once Giles was finished, Percy asked to see the documents and waved his wand about, presumably checking that everything was genuine. Then he sat and thought for a minute or two.

"Thank you for your information, Mr Chairman," he said. "The Ministry deeply appreciates the Council's interest in this matter. I will of course have to locate the Ministry's copy of the agreement to be certain that all the niceties have been observed, and it would be highly unprofessional of me to present all this to the Minister without that confirmation. I'm afraid it may be quite some time before he can be informed."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Giles replied.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with?" Percy asked.

"Can you get us into the school?" Buffy asked. "Like, as inspectors or something?" She couldn't help smirking at the idea of doing an inspection on Snyder.

"That might not be a wise idea," Percy said carefully. "Some of the staff have been hired for their, uh, political sympathies rather than their teaching abilities."

"I think we might be better off employing stealth rather than subterfuge on this occasion, Buffy," Giles said drily. Buffy coloured slightly; the kids had mentioned their school being full of Death Munchers. Giles turned back to Percy. "I don't suppose you know of a secret entrance the Hogwarts staff are not guarding?"

Percy smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do."


	11. Research and Developments

Willow couldn't help but worry a bit about the druids. A lot of them were barely older than she had been when she had first learned to do magic, and she could still remember what a thrill it had been. Casting spells had been seductive, promising to make her important enough that her classmates would have to pay attention to her. Granted they had Xander, and she trusted him... OK, no, she didn't trust him not to act like a kid in a candy store, and she didn't trust Andrew at all. Neither of them were going to stop the others doing something stupid.

Annoyingly, she wasn't sure whether what was happening out in the Ashworths' back garden was stupid or not. Four of the kids — Josh, Ste, John Paul and Craig — were out there trying to recreate the variation of the aura-seeing spell they had accidentally cast on Christmas Day. If it hadn't been such a simple ritual, the first one they had all learned, Willow would definitely have marched out there and insisted that they needed adult supervision. As it was she just sat there nervously watching through the french window to make sure they didn't try adding anything more potent than apple and sage.

"They shouldn't experiment so much," she fretted.

Beside her, Harry sighed. "As far as I understand it, they don't have much choice," he said. "It's not like anybody else knows how their magic works."

"Yes, but they still need supervision," Willow insisted. "They need someone with the experience to know whether the changes they make might be dangerous. It's not always obvious."

"Well, count me out," Harry told her. "I don't even understand what spell they're starting with, never mind what they're doing with it."

"It's just a simple aura-seeing spell." When Harry looked blankly at her, Willow continued, "You know, magical auras showing up different spells and emotions in different colours, that sort of thing?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "I guess wizards aren't very visual. There are plenty of spells for detecting all sorts of stuff, but you just know the answer when you cast one of them. There's no colours or guessing or anything like that."

"That sounds very mechanical," Willow commented. She could see the value of spells that gave you uncluttered, unambiguous answers, and there were times when she had really wanted more measurable results from her spells. Then again, there were times when the uncluttered, unambiguous answer was wrong. Plus, it seemed like wand magic was taking some of the fun out of it by insisting on knowing rather than feeling.

Harry sighed wistfully. "It's a simple spell for you?" he asked.

Willow nodded. "Tara — my first girlfriend — she didn't need a spell, she just saw auras naturally. These days it's one of the first spells we teach because it's so easy to show beginners what they're aiming for."

"How do you mean?"

"I developed a spell that let me share what I was seeing with other people, so they could see the auras too. That's how I taught it to Andrew."

Harry gave her a sideways look. "You did that without experimenting?" he asked pointedly.

It was Willow's turn to sigh. "It worked that time, but when it doesn't work, it really doesn't work. One time I made Giles blind, had Buffy and Spike planning their wedding and every demon in town wanted to be near Xander, all from one misunderstood spell."

"I see your point," Harry said reflectively. "I found a spell once that was just labelled 'For enemies,' and I didn't find out what it did until I used it. It nearly killed Malf— er, Conrad."

The kids outside chose that moment to stumble back in with a slightly unfocused look on their faces. Still seeing auras at least, Willow deduced, but probably nothing more. "Any joy?" she asked Josh, who had made a bee-line for the kettle with Ste.

"Not so much," Josh admitted cheerily. "Get the milk out, would you?" he asked John Paul and Craig, who were searching the fridge presumably for leftovers. Willow couldn't help but smirk; anyone who didn't know better would take one look at their smiles, their eyes and their serious case of the munchies and assume they were stoned.

Josh turned his slightly vague attention back to her as Ste rummaged in the cupboards for mugs. "Nothing's gone wrong exactly," he elaborated, "it's just every variation we try only gives us the basic vision. We even tried saying Grace, in case... What the heck is that?"

"What?" Harry asked nervously as four pairs of eyes turned to him.

"Your forehead," Josh said. He made to come closer but Ste put a protective hand on his shoulder.

"My scar?" Harry asked, putting a hand up to hide the spot on his forehead where his hair hung down. Willow looked on curiously; in the Cliff Notes version of this wizard war she'd been told, no one had mentioned Harry having a scar. That action had been automatic, though, and it suggested that Harry had been trying to hide his scar for so long he didn't think about what he was doing any more.

"There's something wrong about it," Ste said.

Harry sighed. "When V— I mean, when Tom tried to kill me when I was a baby, his spell rebounded and nearly killed him. It left a scar behind."

"It's not just a scar," Craig said.

"Curse scar," Harry agreed. "We think it left me connected to him. I sort of know when he's experiencing strong emotions."

"So it's part of you now?" Craig asked, frowning.

"No it's not," John Paul said. He stepped closer, staring intently at Harry's forehead. "I mean it's there, and it's definitely connected off somewhere, but it's not really part of you."

Harry looked stoic, which made Willow suspicious. What had he thought of that the druids were confirming, she wondered? She needed to look for herself, so she quickly cast the Sight. Fortunately she hadn't been exaggerating when she said it was an easy spell; all she needed now was an outstretched hand, the memory of the incense and Tara's perfume, and a near-wordless appeal to Gaea. She opened here eyes a second later to the familiar pastel world of auras.

Harry's aura pulsed with golden power, the magic that he didn't have to draw in from elsewhere. It was impressive, and Willow was a little jealous; while she could draw on a lot of power from gods, spirits or the earth around her, it wasn't her power. She always had to ask for it, and the power sources weren't always willing to let her have her way. No wonder Harry's sort of wizard had so much trouble with people going evil when there were no checks on what they could use magic for.

Hidden in the flare of Harry's power was another aura. It too glowed with power, but under that were the patterns of something alive and filled with hate and anger. Craig had been right to call it not just a scar, not when underneath it was something more like a person. Or part of a person.

"It's a horcrux," she said, feeling slightly sick.

"Oh," Josh said. He looked horrified. "It was after he'd killed your parents, wasn't it? He'd fulfilled all the conditions for the ritual."

Harry nodded. "I figured he must have done so much damage splitting his soul all those times, it must have just happened without him noticing."

"And when he tried to kill you," John Paul added, "it must have hit the horcrux and set up some kind of feedback loop. I almost feel sorry for it, being crippled as soon as it was created."

"I'd feel a lot more sympathetic if it wasn't inside me," Harry snapped.

"So what's your plan for getting rid of the littlest horcrux?" Willow asked before things could degenerate. She had been considering options, but the way the thing was so tightly bound to Harry made everything she could think of very chancy.

Harry gave her a sickly grin. "I die," he said.

"Like hell you do," Ste said angrily.

"What he said," Willow agreed. "I don't care how great and noble you think it is, that's not an acceptable solution, mister."

"But it works," Harry insisted dully. "If I die, then at least Tom can be killed."

"There has to be a way to shake it loose from you," Josh said. He and John Paul were close up now, Ste evidently having given up on making Josh keep his distance.

Harry shrugged. "I think Dumbledore was hinting at something when he gave us the story book, but..."

"The Three Gifts of Death?" Willow interrupted. She had gone digging after Conrad had reacted so badly to the idea of Riddle having the Elder Wand, and had found a version of the story in the Council's folklore section. There were possibilities in collecting all three gifts and becoming Death's Master, but it was so vague. "Wait, does that mean you have the other two?"

Harry looked sharply at her, then his shoulders slumped again. "It doesn't matter, Tom got to the Elder Wand first."

"Well we'll just have to get it off him for you," Willow said, reaching for her laptop. "In the mean time, I've got some research to do."

"No experimenting," Josh cautioned her cheekily.

******

"Maybe we need more people."

John Paul dutifully scribbled 'More people?' in his notepad at Craig's words. They were at that stage of throwing stupid ideas around the Ashworths' living room and seeing if anything stuck, at least partly because it was too dark and cold to be sitting out on the patio anymore. It was familiar, and yet not; John Paul hadn't really been round to the Ashworths' much since he had come out and stopped trying to be Hannah's boyfriend.

Willow and Harry had taken over the kitchen table with her research into his problem, and much as John Paul wanted to help it had quickly become clear that doing anything about the horcrux without killing Harry in the process was well beyond their current abilities. John Paul and Craig were both convinced that using the horcrux to find Voldemort would be easy, but they didn't need to know where he was right now and they certainly didn't want to tip him off. Particularly not once Willow got the phone call from her Council friends telling her that they were going to sneak into Harry's school tomorrow night.

That left the druids back with their original problem of replicating their accidental spell, which wasn't urgent or important but was at least something to do.

"More of us isn't going to help," Ste said. "We've already got twice as many druids as you had on Christmas Day, and all that's done is get us a solider version of the wrong thing."

"There were more other people involved," Josh mused. "Maybe that's significant?"

Rhys wandered in, sneered at them and wandered through to the kitchen. John Paul grimaced; he hadn't managed to figure out just what was going on there. Something was up with Rhys, of that much he was sure. Josh had dismissed it as Rhys not liking his and Ste's relationship, and Hannah thought it was to do with breaking up with his latest girlfriend. John Paul didn't believe the first explanation, and as for the second, Rhys wasn't exactly known for getting emotionally attached. The rest of the family didn't even know who the girl was, apparently.

"They were John Paul's family," Craig observed, "plus boyfriends."

"That figures," John Paul said, dragging his attention back to the discussion and making another note. "It is all about family and relationships."

"That's easy enough to check," Josh said. "Hey, Rhys, fancy trying out a druidic ritual? There's no sex involved, I promise."

Ste slapped his other half lightly on the head. "It's almost the same as the one Mr Wells showed us," he said as Rhys reappeared.

Rhys still didn't look convinced, so John Paul chipped in. "You heard about us discovering that I've got an older brother? Finding out was kind of an accident, and we're trying to repeat it. It's just something to see relationships; family, lovers, that sort of thing."

"No," Rhys said flatly, and turned for the kitchen again.

John Paul shared a look with Josh. He would have believed that Rhys was still sensitive about discovering that he was only Hannah and Josh's half brother-slash-cousin, except that Rhys had only flinched when he mentioned lovers.

"It's OK," Josh said lightly despite his frown. "I'm sure Beth and Gilly would be happy to help."

Rhys spun on his heel and stalked back into the living room. "Leave them out of this," he said, stabbing a finger at Josh. "I'm warning you. I can't stop you doing what you're doing, but I won't stand for you dragging the rest of this family into your freak show."

"Don't talk to him like that!" Harry was on his feet in an instant, his wand out and levelled at Rhys, and he looked furious.

John Paul stood too, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. "Hey, let's all just calm down here a minute," he said. Inwardly his mind was racing. How could he have missed love-'em-and-leave-'em Rhys Ashworth having a crush on his male best friend?

Josh was anything but calm. He stood, glared up and his big brother and spat out, "You lied. I asked you flat out if you were in love with Beth and _you lied to me._ "

Oh, John Paul thought, Beth. Somehow he had got stuck on Gilly.

"I'm not... There's nothing..." Rhys tried to bluster, then seemed to collapse on himself. "It's not what you think, Josh."

"Really?" Josh said sternly. "Because from here it looks like my brother is carrying on with his half-sister behind his best friend's back."

"We aren't! We haven't touched each other since we found out we were related. It's just... she's funny, she's beautiful, she likes the same things I do... and she's my sister," Rhys finished sadly.

"And you still love her," John Paul said, sitting down heavily. Beth must have been the secret girlfriend, the one Hannah was convinced Rhys wasn't just in lust with for once. Now he couldn't be with her, and John Paul knew that pain all too well.

"Does Gilly know?" Craig asked. John Paul knew why, and couldn't help but wince. Gilly was in the position Craig had put Sarah in. Craig was probably feeling guilty again, especially since Sarah still couldn't bear to see the two of them together.

Rhys shook his head. "She likes him," he offered.

"But she loves you," Craig finished softly. John Paul found his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You should tell him."

"He's my best friend," Rhys protested. "I don't want to hurt him."

"It'll hurt more the longer you leave it," Craig told him. "You know he'll find out eventually, somehow."

"Not if we fix it first," Josh said determinedly.

John Paul gave him a narrow look. "'Fix'?" he asked.

Josh waved his hand vaguely at Rhys. "Them. It's wrong."

Craig went still beside him, and John Paul had to keep a tight rein on his sudden anger. He didn't entirely succeed. "Do you know how many people told me I was 'wrong' when I came out?" he asked. "Do you have any idea how much grief you'll get for being gay when school start up again? Or how much more you'll get for choosing Ste?"

"Hey!" Ste protested.

"Leave him out of this," Josh said hotly. "I love him, and I'm not going to stop loving him just because people don't like it."

"And Rhys isn't going to stop loving Beth either," Craig said quietly. He sounded so sad that it clean cut John Paul's anger out from under him.

Josh looked torn. "But the Grove..." he began.

"May have screwed things up," John Paul agreed. "If it did, the feelings will probably fade now we've cleaned it up. If they don't, who are we to tell Rhys what he can and can't feel?"

"I still want to take a proper look," Josh said, tacitly conceding the point with obvious reluctance. "Just in case."

"Sounds sensible," John Paul allowed. "Maybe we should wait until they've squared things with Gilly, though. It's easier to deal with family crises one at a time."

Harry cleared his throat, then looked embarrassed as everyone's attention focused on him. "I guess I should apologise," he said. "My aunt and uncle, the people I live with, they hate magic. They've called me a freak my whole life for being a wizard, and... Well, I suppose I overreacted. Sorry."

Rhys smiled wanly at him. He didn't apologise in turn to Josh, but then that was Rhys, John Paul reflected. He was normally obnoxiously self-centred and opinionated. If he was thinking of anyone else as being as important as himself, if he genuinely was in love, then at least something good had come out of this.


	12. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people just need straightening out.

What with all that happened since the solstice, not least the previous day's revelations about Rhys, Craig had almost forgotten that he had proposed to John Paul. His mother hadn't, of course and neither had Myra McQueen. That was why Craig found himself enjoying an engagement party in _Dog,_ for some value of 'enjoying'.

Craig's mum didn't exactly approve of the McQueens, which was why the party was in the morning before the pub opened for the lunchtime trade. At least two of John Paul's sisters didn't care, and had been knocking back wine as fast as it appeared. The only reason that Myra hadn't joined them was that she was proudly showing off her newly-discovered son to all and sundry, something that made Craig uneasy.

"He knows, I'm sure of it," he said to Jake and Jack, standing quietly near the sandwiches. He glanced over to where John Paul and Justin were cooing over Charlie, making doubly sure his other half was out of earshot. "He's up to something."

"It could be perfectly innocent," Jake pointed out. "Maybe he just wanted to sound out the McQueens, see how they'd react to the long-lost son returning."

Craig shook his head. "You didn't see his face," he said. "Whatever it was, it wasn't that simple."

"Perhaps you've made it that simple," Jack suggested. "You boys keep telling me that what you did before Christmas should be making things better around here, perhaps this is something being made better."

"I don't think it works like that," Craig said. "We haven't changed how people think."

"But we have changed what causes them to think," Jake said consideringly. "Maybe you two outing Niall has made him look at things in a different light."

"Maybe," Craig said dubiously. He would have argued the point but Myra chose that moment to head they way.

"Myra!" Jack said warmly. "And Niall, good to see you, son. Or do you prefer Matthew nowadays?"

"I don't know," Niall admitted. "I was Matthew when I was a kid, and I hated it. It was the only thing I'd been left with, and I was so angry about being abandoned..." He sighed.

"I don't blame you," Myra said. "I was angry too. Your Nana was right, though; I'd have made a terrible mother back then."

"Did you ever think about going back for him once you were older?" Jack asked.

"All the time," Myra said, "but there was always something. Having to move, or another baby on the way, or another boyfriend leaving. And then you would have been fully grown, and it didn't seem fair to sweep in then. Not when someone else had dried your tears and wiped your nose all those years."

"I..." Niall began, and he looked torn. Craig could sort of understand the idea of hating someone and wishing they were around all the same. He still sometimes felt that way about his biological father.

"Enough about us," Myra said with forced cheerfulness. "Have you two come up with a date for making honest men out of each other?"

Craig couldn't help smiling and looking over at John Paul. "We're looking at the summer," he said. "It's just too complicated to do anything sooner, what with college and all."

"Are you going to be OK with that?" Niall asked. "You being in Dublin and him being here? Long distance relationships are supposed to be hard."

"Oh, we're solid," Craig said confidently. After what they had gone through, he was certain that mere distance wasn't going to keep him and John Paul apart. They knew each other too deeply for that.

"You've got to admit 'Midsummer Marriage' has a certain ring to it," Jack said.

"Civil Partnership," Craig corrected pedantically.

Jake snorted. "Semantics," he said. "You two are committing to spend your lives together. That's basically what a marriage is, isn't it?"

"Don't look at me, love," Myra said with a laugh. "The only one I wanted to stay with..." She trailed off, looking suddenly apprehensive. Niall shifted uncomfortably.

"Do you know anything about your father, laddie?" Jack asked Niall gently.

Niall's face closed down. "They told me he was dead," he said, "died in prison."

Craig, Jake and Jack all winced together. Becca's death was still too raw a wound for them. Myra however made a broken sound and raised a hand to her mouth. "Dead?" she asked. "He disappeared, his parents wouldn't talk to me, I never thought... I thought he'd just left me."

"What was his name?" Jake asked. A question that Niall should have got in first, Craig thought; none of this was the surprise to him that it should have been.

"Martin," Myra said faintly. "Martin Brownlow."

"Oh my God!" Jack said, sounding faintly stunned.

Niall's eyes lit up. "You knew him?" he practically demanded.

Jack nodded wearily. "I was the arresting officer," he admitted. "My first great failure."

Jack was looking down, so he missed the flash of hatred on Niall's face that rapidly turned to confusion. "How do you mean, failure?" he asked.

"I was young," Jack said wryly, "well, younger. Thought I was God's gift to the Force. Young Martin was a tearaway, but I thought I could befriend him and turn him around. I got nowhere; he fell in with a bad lot, then kept pushing and pushing until I couldn't turn a blind eye any more. I hoped that the shock of detention might do what I couldn't, but it didn't. Apparently he fell in with an even worse lot and got killed in a stupid fight over nothing. A wasted life, that can't be anything but a failure."

"At least you tried," Craig ventured.

Jack sighed. "Aye, but it doesn't help. For years I kept thinking that if I'd just said or done something different..."

"You can't change the past," John Paul said as he slid up to Craig's side. He looked at Craig and smiled broadly. "Hey, gorgeous."

"Hey yourself." Craig couldn't keep an answering smile off his face, Niall temporarily forgotten. "There's a few things in our past I'd change if I could."

"Don't even think about trying," Justin said from where he had appeared beside Jake. "What brought all this on anyway?"

Craig gave him the quick run-down of Martin Brownlow's life and death. There was something very sad about the fact it took less than thirty seconds. Justin seemed to agree; "That sounds uncomfortably familiar," he said.

"There but the for grace of God?" John Paul asked.

Justin nodded. "Except I got unbelievably lucky at the end." He smiled up at Jake.

"You were never in so deep," Jack said sadly.

"I was Warren's good little minion," Justin objected.

"Aye, but for all that I don't like the man, Warren has his limits." Justin's face scrunched up at Jack's words; evidently he thought Warren's limits went a long way. "Most people want to be liked or respected," Jack continued. "The gang that young Martin got into in prison, they weren't like that. They just wanted to be feared, by all reports. Most of them came to sticky ends, and precious few even finished their prison terms."

Justin looked intrigued at something Jack said, but Jake got in before him. "Probably a good thing for the rest of us that they were locked up, then," he said.

"Not so good for my dad, though," Niall said pointedly. Jake looked embarrassed as his gaffe.

"No, prison did your father no favours at all," Jack agreed. "When I started thinking it did more harm to most people than good, that was when I knew I couldn't be a policeman any more. If I hadn't arrested him, your father wouldn't have got caught up with those gangs."

"We're back to not being able to change the past," Craig pointed out. "Besides, you can't know that for certain. Someone else might have arrested him, or he might have met up with them some other way, or found some other reason to want to be feared."

"At least you were trying to do your best for him," Justin added. "Though if he was anything like me, he probably didn't appreciate it." He looked at Niall, who was beginning to look a little pale. "Are you alright, Niall?"

"I'm... I think I need to sit down," Niall said unsteadily.

"It's a lot to take in, I know," Jack said, and suddenly Craig got it. Judging by the looks on their faces, so did his friends.

"It's a hell of a shock, finding out that your parents aren't perfect," Jake said softly. "I couldn't believe it when Dad cheated on Mum. I didn't really believe it until he left, and then I was so angry."

Justin nodded reflectively. "I think finding out my dad's death was suicide was what pushed me down the wrong path. Suddenly nothing was certain anymore, and I couldn't cope." He looked at John Paul, who shook his head.

"I learned not to trust my father at an early age," he said. "The last time we saw him, he stole our Christmas presents."

"Don't look at me," Jack said quickly. "My parents are still happily married."

"The benefits of living a long way from here," Craig commented. He turned back to Niall. "The point is, there are people here who've got some idea of what you're going through and know first hand how badly it can screw you up. If you ever need to talk... just don't ask me to keep anything from John Paul, OK?"

Niall swallowed and nodded, and Craig managed to force what he hoped was a convincing smile onto his face. He was pretty sure now that Niall had known the score about the McQueens and his father for a long time, long enough to get well and truly screwed up by the generally mystically bad atmosphere Hollyoaks used to have. Maybe they had just straightened him out, but Craig wasn't going to trust John Paul's safety to luck. No, he was going to keep a careful eye on Niall, or Matthew, or whatever he ended up being called. If there were any signs that Niall hadn't abandoned whatever plans he had made, Craig was going to come down on him like a ton of bricks.

******

"You don't have to try so hard, you know."

Warren looked round from where he was unlocking the side door to _The Loft_ to see Justin leaning against the wall nearby. The kid was still looking entirely too unconcerned for Warren's taste, which only served to remind him that he knew just as little about what Justin was up to as he had done two nights ago. Jack had tried to pass off all the talk of poisoning as part of a game, but Warren hadn't been fooled. Amy's new boyfriend had looked far too scared, and who the hell plays games like that past midnight?

"What are you on about?" he snapped.

"All this business about buying into the _Dog_ , you're trying too hard. You don't need to be impressive to get people to like you."

"Oh, because that's worked so well for you."

Justin smiled a little, apparently impervious to Warren's sarcasm. "Surprisingly, yes," he said, "though I've had an unfair advantage lately." He quickly lost the smile, pushing himself off the wall. "I'm serious. Think about the people you don't put on this big brash act for. Louise and Katie, they're the ones who love you. You were yourself to me eventually, and I still like you even after all the shit you've pulled."

"So what," Warren retorted, "if I'd been all sweetness and light to Claire she wouldn't have flipped and kidnapped Katie?" And demanded that Warren murder Justin if he wanted her returned safely. Justin didn't know how seriously Warren had considered that. If he'd been more certain that Claire would keep her word...

"Claire was a psycho," Justin said, interrupting his thoughts. "She never stood a chance around here."

Now that was a strange thing to say, Warren thought. Claire Devine had by all accounts simply walked into Hollyoaks and wrapped everyone around her twisted little finger. She had been top dog until Warren had manage to steal _The Loft_ out from under her, and he'd been lucky to manage that. By rights she should still be the top dog, but somehow she had let it fall apart and left herself wide open for Justin to shove her off the stairs. Warren's eyes narrowed as he considered that; was Justin threatening him? "She never stood a chance?" he asked, watching the boy carefully.

Justin shrugged. "This place can be unsettling," he said easily. "People do stupid things more often than they would elsewhere. Someone like Claire, who didn't have that good a grip on reality in the first place... well, it was bound to be a big explosion."

"Right," Warren disbelievingly. "So we've gone from 'be nice to everybody' to 'Hollyoaks has bad feng shui.'" Justin didn't look like he was trying to be threatening, and his usual idea of being subtle was just pitiful, but Warren was wary all the same. Something was giving Justin the idea that he could talk to Warren as an equal, and Warren doubted very much that was Josh Ashworth's say so.

"What the heck is... no, never mind, this is about you." Justin paused and Warren drew breath to say something else sarcastic else, keep the kid off-balance. Justin's raised hand stopped him. "No," Justin said forcefully, "this is important. I get the whole being the big man thing. It's like something Jack said this morning, people want to be liked. What I don't get is why you think you have to be aggressive about it?"

"No one ever got anywhere by being a nice guy," Warren sneered, laying on the sarcasm thick. Justin just gave him a small smile.

"You should watch Jack work some time," he said mildly. "It's like he spends his life... Oh!" His face lit up at some revelation, and Warren took a half-step backwards instinctively. "Who told you Warren Fox wasn't good enough?" Justin demanded softly.

Warren couldn't help but remember. He could practically feel the rain soaking him to the skin again, his foster father's cruel words ringing in his ears as he was shoved out the door. Standing there shivering, that was when he had sworn he would do anything to prevent Katie going through the same hell. Anything at all.

"They were wrong, whoever they were," Justin said, breaking the spell. Warren was surprised to find Justin right up in his face. The quiet intensity in Justin's eyes kept Warren from pushing the kid away.

"Warren Fox is a guy worth knowing," Justin continued. "He protects the people he loves, and you can't ask more of a man than that." He grinned abruptly. "Except maybe he could stand to love a few more people. Seriously, Warren you don't need to prove a thing."

"That's enough," Warren snapped. He was having a hard time keeping it together as Justin's insights hit close to home, and anger was what came to him first. "What do you want?" he demanded hotly. "And before you say 'nothing', remember that I know you."

Justin shrugged, still infuriatingly calm. "A quite life?" he offered. "That's not going to happen, though. I'd settle for just one emergency at a time."

Warren looked at him narrowly. "Not threats? No warnings this time?"

"Would they do any good?" Justin asked rhetorically. "Oh, Jack said 'No' by the way, but we all knew that was going to happen."

"Why do I get the impression you didn't try very hard to persuade him?"

"Because this isn't my current emergency," Justin said bluntly. Warren was surprised; he'd been expecting more slippery niceness, not such a flat dismissal. "My current emergency is about to stick its head in the lion's mouth again, and on current form that means someone's going to find a really weird way to get hurt. Whatever it is, they're going to expect us to fix it, so I'd really appreciate it if you didn't kick anyone's paranoia into high gear right now."

That was as animated as he had seen Justin in a while, Warren thought. All in aid of dismissing him as unimportant. "You want me to back off so I don't worry your friends?"

"I want you to back off so that nobody dies," Justin fired back. "That's a very real possibility even if you do back off, because people keep putting their lives in my hands and we're still making things up as we go along." He took a deep breath and steadied himself, suddenly looking as young as he really was. "Please, Warren, just this once? I don't..."

I don't want to get anyone else killed, Warren filled in for himself. That was what scared Justin far more than Warren could. That was his way in, but only if he was prepared to risk someone dying as a result. Warren had no illusions about how nice a person he was. He knew he could kill — had killed, to protect Louise — but not for something so small.

"Some day soon," he said grimly, "we are going to sit down with a beer and you are going to tell me exactly exactly what is going on."

It wasn't exactly a promise to leave off, but Justin seemed to take it that way. He smiled, big and genuine, and said, "Yeah, we will. Just..." The smile faltered. "Just be sure you want to know. Even you will lose sleep over this crap."

Warren didn't stop him when he turned and left. He was thinking about what Justin had said, and how the kid had changed over the last few weeks. He had hinted at 'real evil' again, but he had gone out of his way to make Warren out as nothing of the sort. Was it just some ploy to keep Warren off his back? Justin seemed to believe in it, but it made no sense. It especially confused Warren that Justin thought he wouldn't like the answer so much that he wouldn't want to know it. Ignorance had never been bliss for Warren; knowing more about what was going on than anyone else around had kept him out of jail and made him money on more than a few occasions. Not wanting to know something just because it was nasty... no way.


	13. Ho! for Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally our heroes get to Hogwarts. Now they just have to stay alive.

Amy was beyond impressed. She had vaguely got the idea that Conrad's kind of wizard threw magic around like water, and being blipped around the place was now nausea-inducing rather than amazing, but the castle these kids used as a school was something else. The stuff they took for granted, chatting with paintings and ghosts like it was nothing new... well, it just made it clearer how insignificant Con— Draco must find her flat.

Impressed was, unfortunately, having to take a back seat at the moment. Things had been spiralling out of control ever since Buffy together with Ron's least-favourite brother had led them through the secret passage into a room full of schoolkids determined to start a revolution right then. Things had been sticky when they had noticed Conrad, but a combination of Harry, Ron and Hermione vouching for him and Amy and the other slayers glowering at anyone who even looked like they might bad-mouth him had smoothed things over. Well, maybe 'smoothed' wasn't the right word, but at least the overt threats had stopped.

Then Harry had made his impassioned plea about a lost diadem, which Amy presumed was the last of the known horcruxes. When Harry, Buffy and the girl they had rescued, Luna, went off to look at some statue for clues, Willow and Kennedy had promptly enlisted her and Conrad to try to keep control of the kids. That had worked right up until alarms started sounding, at which point the kids all charged without any kind of plan. Fortunately they hadn't encountered anyone other than teachers the kids respected, but that hadn't made Amy feel any better about being swept along in the crush. The fact that no one else had done any better did not improve her mood any.

They had ended up in what Conrad told her was the Great Hall. It was amazing; Amy had no idea how they made the ceiling look like outside or kept hundreds of candles burning without dripping wax on everyone, she just knew that it was beautiful. She managed to stop gawping in time to see Buffy stalking towards them.

"One of the bad guys blind-sided us," Buffy said grumpily. "We took him out, but not before he sent up the alarm."

"They were waiting for you?" Kennedy asked.

"For Harry, but yes," Buffy confirmed. "They knew we'd be looking at that bust."

"We must be on the right track then," Conrad said. "The Dark Lord wouldn't have watchdogs here if there wasn't something to guard."

"You can use his name," Buffy told him. "I'm pretty sure Voldy knows that Harry's here by now. If he didn't guess when the balloon went up, the Principal will have told him by now."

"Professor Snape escaped?" Amy asked. She knew Conrad would want to know; he had explained all about his godfather to her and she had seen at the time how conflicted he was.

Buffy nodded. "Jumped out of a window and flew off like some giant bat," she said, "which is apparently majorly impressive." Conrad's eyes certainly went wide at the news, Amy noticed. "Plus, according to Harry, old Snake-Face is on his way here anyway. Apparently he's figured out we've been destroying his toys, and he's really pissed about it."

"Definitely on the right track," Willow muttered.

"May I have your attention please?" The elderly witch must have done something magic to her voice, because her extremely Scottish accent cut easily through the hubbub. None of the kids looked the least bit surprised. The woman — Professor McGonagall, Conrad whispered — outlined the situation to the kids as more wizards and slayers filtered into the hall. Amy felt scared, though she tried not to show it; this had been supposed to be a quick, stealthy raid, and she had only come along because Conr— Draco insisted on going with Harry. Now it was shaping up to be a full-scale battle, Amy was painfully aware of how inexperienced she was. The last fight she'd been in had nearly killed her, and this one promised to be worse.

_"I know that you are preparing to fight."_ The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, rolling through Amy's head and interrupting McGonagall's stiff reassurances. Judging from the stifled screams, this was Voldemort himself. Amy shivered.

_"Your efforts are futile,"_ the voice continued. _"You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood._

_"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded._

_"You have until midnight."_

The silence that followed was almost tangible. Buffy didn't let it fester. "Resistance is futile," she snarked. From the limited number of frightened giggles, most of the wizards didn't get the reference.

"But Potter's there," one of the older girls said unsteadily, pointing to Harry. "Someone—"

"No." Conrad's voice wasn't loud, but it still shocked the girl into silence. It also made Harry's schoolmates, who had looked ready to leap to his defence, stop and stare. Amy couldn't help grinning with pride.

"I know you're scared, Pansy," Conrad continued. "I spent most of last year terrified and I'm not much better right now. The trouble is, handing over Potter isn't going to make that go away. V— Voldemort is never going to make you feel safe. Even his rewards have threats in them. If you ever want to stop feeling so afraid, you need Harry to win."

No one, it seemed, knew how to take that. The girl Conrad had spoken to looked gobsmacked and betrayed, and her friends were no better. Harry's friends looked to be mostly confused, though Harry himself was relaxed and a couple of older red-heads near him were grinning from ear to ear.

"Miss Parkinson," Professor McGonagall said after a moment, "I would understand entirely if you wished to lead the lower years to safety. I do not want to put anyone at odds with their relatives. And yes, Mr Malfoy," She continued as Conrad opened his mouth, "I am well aware that you will be staying to defend the castle. I would rather none of my students were placed in danger, but as Miss Summers pointed out, we cannot readily stop you."

"Believe me, I've spent years trying," Buffy called out, sending an amused glance Willow's way.

They gathered a lot of curious looks as the younger kids were chivied out of the hall. Amy supposed that they must look odd to the student wizards, a bunch of teenaged girls with lots of obvious old-fashioned weaponry and no visible wands. The ones who had been born into wizarding families probably didn't even know what Buffy was doing when she whipped out her phone and started talking into it. That reminded Amy; she needed to warn her father that she wasn't going to be home any time soon, and he might be stuck babysitting until morning. She got out her own mobile, but stared in confusion as the display flickered wildly.

"Here, let me," Willow said, taking the phone off her. She covered it with her other hand and muttered something for a good half minute before handing it back. The display looked normal now, Amy saw as she gingerly took it. "Magic can be hard on electronics if you don't protect them," Willow explained, "and this place has a lot of magic. That should hold it for a few hours. I'll fix it properly when we have more time."

"Thanks," Amy said sincerely. She felt horribly outclassed once again. She tried not to think about it as she spoke to her father, but she couldn't help wondering what she hoped to achieve here. She was fast and strong, but this place, this fight was all about magic and she didn't have any of that. She had come because she needed to protect Conr— Draco, couldn't bear the thought of him getting hurt. Now she was here she didn't know what she could do. This was his world, not hers.

Buffy caught her eye as she finished. "You OK?" she asked.

Amy thought about lying until she saw the concern on Buffy's face. "It's just..." She gestured helplessly at the castle around them.

"I know," Buffy said gently. "This is big. We're coming in on the end of a war, and only a handful of Slayers have any idea what that really means. Plus, you've got a boyfriend in the thick of it. That's never easy to handle."

"He's not... We're not.." The claim stuck in Amy's throat. She had woken up with Conrad holding her, making her feel precious again, and she couldn't remember being happier. She was going to lose him back to this magical world, but she had him for now. That would have to be enough. "I don't want him to get hurt," she admitted.

"You are officially on detached duty," Buffy said. "Stick to your boy like glue, OK?" When Amy nodded, Buffy grinned and steered her back to where Conrad was waiting. Willow joined them moments later, tucking her own cellphone away. "Hey Wills, what's the what?"

"I was just bringing Xander up to date," Willow explained. "The guys are ready and waiting if we need them."

"Vi and Rona's squads are on their way through the secret passage by now," Buffy reported. "Apparently that floo thing is a really wild ride. Where's Kennedy?"

"She took her squad down to the main entrance," Willow said. "We figured it was the most likely breech point." She looked at Conrad, who shrugged.

"Once the wards are down, the Death Eaters can apparate into anywhere they can visualise clearly," he said. "They'll probably go for the entrance all the same."

"OK." Buffy frowned. "I need someone who knows the castle so I can figure out where to put the other squads."

"Potter," Conrad said promptly. "Or the Weasley twins, but they're busy with the other entrances."

"Where is Harry anyway?" Amy asked. She hopped onto a bench, but couldn't catch sight of any of the Trio. At least not until she saw Harry hurry back into the Great Hall, an excited look on his face.

"Where's Ron and Hermione?" Harry demanded as he rushed up to them.

"They were supposed to be with you," Buffy said pointedly.

Harry frowned, evidently not taking Buffy's hint. "Hermione has the sword," he said.

Willow perked up. "You found it?" she asked.

"I know where to look," Harry said. "It might take a while to actually find it."

"OK, that takes priority," Buffy said firmly. She looked at Amy and Conrad. "You two go with him, make sure no one tries to take Voldeborg up on his offer."

"Here, take these," Willow said, fishing some ear-pieces out of a pocket. "I figured that ordinary non-magical comms would be more reliable for once, at least once I magic-hardened them." Amy thanked her as she fitted her radio, following Buffy's lead in making sure the inconspicuous microphone was firmly taped to her jawline. She turned to help the wizards, but both Harry and Conrad seemed to have it well in hand.

"These may not get through to us where we're going," Harry warned. "I know it blocks magical detection."

"We'll deal," Buffy said. "Just call back in when you get clear. Now all I have to do is scare up a teacher who will actually stop and talk. Someone must have a map of this place."

"I can do better than that," Harry said. He reached into his robes, pulled out a sheet of paper and waved his wand over it. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he declared.

"Wow," Willow said as a map appeared on the paper. Amy could see it was covered in annotations — names, it looked like — that seemed to be moving. Amy was amazed all over again.

"Real-time update and everything," Buffy said appreciatively as she took the map. "You sure know how to please a lady."

Amy tried not to grin too much as Harry blushed at the innuendo. "Come on," she said, "let's go before the bad guys attack."

******

Conrad baulked as Potter stopped in front of a horribly familiar wall. He had spent far too much time the previous year in the room hidden behind that wall, getting ever more scared and desperate. He hadn't really been paying attention when they had arrived, hadn't realised where in the castle they were, but as Potter had lead them back and he recognised more of the route, Conrad's heart had begun to sink. Now here was the proof; Harry's "Room of Requirement" was the same room Draco had used to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

"Here we are," Harry said as the door appeared. He threw it open, and Conrad froze at the awfully familiar sight it revealed.

"Conrad?" Amy must have noticed him stop, because she was staring at him in concern. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate.

"The Room of Lost Things," he managed to whisper.

Potter turned back to them, the smile falling from his face. "Oh, I should have thought! I'm sorry," he said. Amy frowned at him, so of course Potter had to explain. Conrad braced himself for yet more humiliation.

"Ma—, er, Conrad spent a lot of time in this room last year," Potter said with unexpected delicacy. "Old Snakeface had set him a pretty impossible task, but he actually found a way. I can't imagine it was much fun, though," he finished, looking at Conrad sympathetically.

Conrad was grateful for Harry's tact, but he knew he had to tell Amy the rest of it. He owed her the whole shameful truth of who Draco Malfoy was. "I let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts," he said. "I managed to repair a Vanishing Cabinet so that they could use it to get past the wards, and... And I killed Dumbledore."

"No you didn't," Harry countered quickly and firmly. "I was there on the tower, I saw you disarm Dumbledore, but that's all. You aren't a killer."

"He's still dead because of me," Conrad insisted.

Amy put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "You were bullied into it," she said, "but even when you couldn't see any other options you still didn't cross that line. I'm really proud that you were so strong."

"Think of it this way," Harry said mischievously. "You were good enough to disarm Dumbledore." He paused and looked at Conrad consideringly. "You beat Dumbledore..."

"Shouldn't we be looking for the Diadem?" Conrad asked before Harry could say anything more embarrassing about him. He didn't understand why he was surrounded by people who refused to believe he was weak and unreliable, and he was a little worried about forgetting himself and starting to believe them.

"Alright," Amy said gently, and Conrad loved her a little bit more for letting him off. She led him into the huge, junk-filled room. "What exactly are we looking for?" she asked.

"It's a tiara," Harry said. "It's not actually all that flashy if it's what I think it is. I put it on this really ugly bust wearing a wig... Somewhere around here, I think."

They searched hurriedly. Even so, Conrad was horribly conscious of the passing time, and he wasn't unduly surprised when Amy glanced at her watch and announced, "It's gone midnight. The attack will have started."

"We need to get a move on," Harry muttered. "It must be here somewhere... Aha!" He lunged for what Conrad had to admit was a stupendously ugly bust and came up with a small tiara, not excessively bejewelled though with some intricate metalwork. It did look surprisingly ordinary.

_"Expelliamus!"_ The tiara went flying out of Harry's hand. Conrad turned, wand ready, to see Blaise Zabini standing between two piles of junk, flanked by Greg and Vince. "Where's Granger?" Blaise demanded.

"No idea," Conrad said promptly. Blaise looked at him narrowly, and Conrad realised that he was going to have to think more like his old self if he was going to keep this from getting very nasty indeed.

"I heard her talking," Blaise shot back. "Where is she?" He must have mistaken Amy's voice for Granger's, Conrad reasoned, and somehow Amy must have hidden from them. He felt proud of her once again, and manfully didn't look in the direction he had last seen her.

"She's not here," Harry said coldly. "I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't her."

A line of attack occurred to Conrad, and he tried to smirk the way he used to. "I hesitate to ask, Blaise," he drawled, "but how long have you been hearing Granger when she isn't there? It's really not a healthy sign, obsessing over someone like that. And heaven only knows what Weasley will think."

"Who cares what Weasley thinks," Vince grunted.

"Apart from Granger?"

"Enough about Granger," Blaise snapped, sparing Conrad the need to actually start listing people. He lifted an eyebrow instead, knowing Blaise would interpret it as taking note of mentioning Hermione again. Blaise's eye twitched. "You're coming with us," he said through gritted teeth. "Both of you."

"I don't think so," Potter said. He had used Conrad's distraction to draw his own wand, but being a Gryffindor he hadn't taken any more advantage. "There are only three of you."

Greg frowned. "There are only two of you," he said. Potter raised an eyebrow at him, which Conrad could have told him wouldn't work. Subtlety always went straight over Greg's head.

"Harry's an excellent fighter," he said gently, "and sorry Greg, but you aren't."

"But there's only two of you," Greg insisted stubbornly.

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. "Look, there's only a couple of students I'm not sure I can beat easily," he said. "One of them's here, but he's standing beside me. Draco and me are easily a match for you three."

"Now Potter's praising Malfoy," Blaise sad consideringly. "Is there something we should be telling the Weaselette?"

Harry was clearly thrown off his stride by the innuendo, but Conrad had long since lost any embarrassment over sex. No insinuation could possibly be as bad as what he had done — no, as what had been done to him. Besides, he and Ron had already laughed themselves silly at the idea. "He's handsome enough," he allowed, grinning a little to throw Blaise off-balance, "but I don't think he's interested. Besides, my girlfriend would object."

Blase gaped, evidently not expecting Conrad to be so blase. Now Conrad thought of it, the old him probably would have had a hissy fit about family honour and his own manhood. Unfortunately Harry was no better than Blaise, while Vince and Greg just looked puzzled; Draco didn't have quite the surprise he wanted to start the duel.

"You're...?" Blaise managed eventually. He stepped a little closer. "Wait, you have a girlfriend?"

Amy melted out of the shadows, grabbed Vince and Greg and smacked their heads together. Blaise turned as they slumped to the ground, and Amy grabbed his wrist, effectively stopping him spellcasting. "Yes, he does," she said. "And for the record, I do object."

Conrad beamed at her. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he would have been disappointed if she didn't object, but he recognised the Malfoyishness of the remark in time. "We'll deal with these guys, Harry," he said instead. "You find the diadem."

It only took a few moments for Conrad and Amy to disarm the boys and tie them up with conjured rope. Blaise was shocked into silence at first, before glaring furiously at Conrad. "You traitor," he hissed. "I don't know you any more. Consorting with Mudbloods and Muggles and Merlin knows what else? After all the Dark Lord has done for you—"

"The Dark Lord gave me an impossible task to punish my father," Conrad broke in harshly. "He made it clear that what I managed wasn't good enough. So I ran. The Muggles?" He paused, looking at Amy. "They saved my life. They had absolutely no reason to, but they saved me, took me in, and put me back together when all that was left of me was a few broken bits. And they may not have magic like we do, but it turns out there are some things their technology is better at."

"All Voldemort wants is power," Harry said as he reappeared, the tiara looped over his arm. "He'll use you for as long as you're useful, then if you're lucky he won't use you as an example. Come on, let's go."

They stunned Blaise and the others, and locked them into a convenient wardrobe. It wasn't ideal, but Conrad hoped it would keep them out of the way for long enough. He really didn't want any more deaths on his conscience; his part in Dumbledore's death was quite enough.

The radios sputtered back to life as they left the room. Conrad started in surprise; he had forgotten he was wearing it, and besides he really hadn't expected to hear Weasley's voice snapping out orders.

Amy lifted a hand to her ear. "This is Amy," she said. "We're back." It felt very odd to Conrad to hear her both in front of him and directly in his ear.

"Gotcha," Ron said promptly. "We saw Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle head in after you. Are you OK?"

"They're unconscious in a cupboard," Harry said. "We're fine, and we found what we were looking for."

Weasley's sigh of relief came over the radio clearly. "Hermione's on her way to you already, she'll be there in a minute. Fred and Percy are in the corridor to your left, they could use a hand."

"On it," Harry said, already turning into the corridor. In short order Conrad found himself helping to knock the Minister of Magic out. It was quite invigorating, really.

"Oh Minister," Percy Weasley said to the man who appeared to be slowly turning into a sea urchin, "before I resign, the Watcher's Council wanted you to know that they're here to destroy some artefacts the Dark Lord made. Is that alright with you?"

Fred Weasley — at least, Conrad assumed this one of the twins must be Fred — stared delightedly at his brother. "Perce, did you just make a joke?"

"Not a very good one, apparently," Percy said, disgruntled.

"No, seriously," Fred began, but Conrad's attention was wrenched away by his radio.

"Harry!" Ron shouted urgently. "Get away from the walls!"

Conrad had his wand up and was casting a shield spell without conscious thought. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he saw the outer wall of the corridor bow inwards, exploding under some terrific blast. He didn't have time to think, he just knew that he had to protect his friends, and he put every ounce of power he had into expanding his shields over them. He was shocked to feel an answering pulse of power rush through him, strengthening his shields far beyond what he could do himself and filling his vision with light.

"Well, this is interesting," an unexpected voice said calmly. Conrad's vision cleared to show him Simon leaning in to inspect Fred Weasley. Weasley himself was immobile, as was everyone else and all the rubble flying from what had been the castle wall, all seemingly covered by a soft golden light. The hub-bub of battle was silent, too; as far as Conrad could tell, time seemed to have stopped. "What's happening?" he asked shakily.

"My..." Simon paused, uncertain. "Gardeners? I'm never quite sure what to call them. Anyway, they decided to let you have the power you wanted. I just came to see what you were doing."

"Power? The Grove?" Conrad's mind was awhirl. The druids could have fed the natural magic of the grove straight to his wand, he supposed. It was the sort of thing they would do, too, no matter that he knew it was a bad idea to give him that much responsibility.

Simon hummed abstractedly, turning his attention back to Weasley. "My memory is fuzzy, but I didn't think you were supposed to throw large stones at humans. They're so fragile."

Conrad looked at the huge lump of masonry that was about to take Fred's head off and started panicking in earnest. "You're not supposed to," he said, and tried to reinforce his shields around the man. Nothing happened.

"You can't do anything about it now," Simon said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We're between heartbeats."

His heart wasn't beating, Conrad realised. "Am I dead?" he whispered.

Simon frowned. "Why do you keep asking that?" he said. "I told you, we're not really here, we're in my head. Well, your head, I suppose. Why do humans have so much trouble with time anyway? You get so worried when it doesn't plod along at the speed you think it should."

It was all in his imagination, Conrad repeated to himself. He was talking to Simon, but only in a split second in his head. No, it still didn't make any sense. Not even the questions he got in reply sounded much like the man he knew. "Are you really Simon?" he asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Simon frowned again in brief concentration. "Yes and no," he said. "I'm not his... spark? Oh, soul, what a strange idea. You make identity so hard, like it's something that can only be in one place."

"It can be in more than one?" Conrad asked, even more confused.

"I'm here and there," Simon pointed out. Or the echo of Simon that something else, something big, was using. Conrad knew he was going to have a massive headache at the end of all this. "And you can't even keep that straight, calling yourself different names as if you were different people."

"I am a different person," Conrad said a bit more defiantly than he had meant. "I've changed." Almost every idea he'd had about what was important had been shaken up and thrown away.

"This is that time thing again, isn't it?" Simon asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. "Everything changes, that's the point. Even stones change, though they spend so much time asleep it's a wonder they notice."

"They do? Why?" Conrad wondered whether he ought to be annoyed at having what he went through — what Simon went through — trivialised like that. He was too confused to care much.

Simon shrugged. "Growth is change," he said simply. He looked back at Weasley. "So is death."

Conrad felt something cold twist in the pit of his stomach. "Can you save him?" he asked.

"That's Draco Malfoy's job," Simon said, suddenly all smiles, "and I think it's time to let you get back to it."

"Goodbye, Simon," Conrad whispered. He watched as long as he dared as the golden light folded in on itself. Then his world narrowed back down to the shields he was pouring power into. He felt something hit him, knock him off his feet and drive the breath out of him as he fell, but it didn't matter. The only thing that was important was protecting his friends.

The moment of silence as everything stopped moving seemed to last forever. Draco dropped his spell and opened his eyes to find Amy on top of him, obviously trying to shield him with her own body. Elsewhere he could see Harry adjusting his glasses and Fred staring wide-eyed at the block of stone that apparently hadn't killed him, and heard Percy whining from the corner. He turned his attention back to Amy. "Hello, beautiful," he murmured. She flushed, smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

"Spiders!" Ron's voice shouted in his ear. "There are spiders on the East Wall."

"We're on it," Harry said, helping the Weasleys upright. He tossed the Diadem to Hermione, who chose that moment to appear. "Here, kill this," he told her.

Conrad let Amy help him to his feet, feeling better than he had done for years. He was standing among the best wizards of his age, with this amazing, beautiful girl at his side. Together they could face anything.


	14. Snakebite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape's encounter with Nagini does not go according to anyone's plan.

Severus Snape would have preferred his passing to be less painful, and perhaps a little less futile in the end, but he wasn't sad that it was happening. His long penance for Lily's death was nearly over. It would have been nice if the man responsible was dead and gone himself, but Severus was long resigned to not getting what he wanted.

There was movement to his side, and a bespectacled face swam into view. Potter, of course. Apparently he wasn't even to be allowed the dignity of dying without the brat interfering. Still, there were things Potter needed to know if he was going to have the best chance of defeating the Dark Lord, plans of Dumbledore's that were still in motion a year after the old goat's death, and Severus knew there wasn't time to tell him. One final indignity.

He tried to be disciplined about marshalling his memories, but Nagini's venom left him too weak. Memories of Lily crept in uninvited, things that had never been meant for anyone but Severus. He found himself dwelling on them, and castigated himself for wasting time and showing weakness in front of Potter. If he could persuade the boy to leave him in peace, he might just have time to lose himself in the memories.

He was weak by the time he was finished. Not long now. Potter had the memories in a vial. Good. And his hand was being held by... "Draco?" He was hallucinating. How embarrassing.

"They're ready," a voice said. Severus couldn't see who it was. Female. Granger? It was irrelevant; Draco grabbed the front of his robes and Severus was gripped by the familiar nausea-inducing sensation of apparation.

The place they landed was poorly lit, confusing Severus some more. Not St Mungo's then. Probably just as well, the Dark Lord undoubtedly had spies there. Not that Severus would last long enough for that to matter. Normal anti-venines wouldn't work against the poison the Dark Lord had bred into Nagini, and Severus would be dead long before even the best mediwizard could analyse it sufficiently. At least, he thought as consciousness finally faded out, he had got to see his godson one last time.

Waking up was a surprise.

He was lying on grass, Severus discovered, in a clearing in some woods lit by a small number of oddly-shaped lanterns. He was sore all over, unsurprisingly, his chest feeling particularly bruised. He wasn't freezing, at least, so someone must have had the wit to keep a warming charm replenished. It must be some kind of field hospital, but it seemed too quiet. There was none of the bustle and noise Severus expected from overstretched facilities trying to cope with battle-wounded wizards, nor could he see any other patients from where he was lying. He started to struggle into a sitting position, but was stopped by a firm hand on his chest.

"Woah, Professor. Your body isn't ready for sitting up yet." The speaker was a young man — no, a boy who couldn't be older than Potter. He sounded English, but Severus didn't recognise him and he of all people should know every young witch and wizard in the country. Perhaps he had been schooled abroad. If so, Severus didn't think much of the sense of wizarding culture the school had obviously failed to inculcate; the boy was wearing distinctly Muggle clothing, not even of decent quality and style. All in all, the only impressive thing about the boy was the way he ignored the glare Severus levelled at him.

"Who are you," Severus demanded, "and what happened?" His voice sounded weak in his ears, much to his chagrin.

"You were bitten by a giant snake," the boy said, evidently ignoring Severus's first question. "A lot."

"I am all too painfully aware of that," Severus snapped. Tried to snap; it came out with much less bite than he had intended. "How am I still alive?"

"We managed to neutralise the poison, obviously," the boy said, unruffled. "It was touch and go, though. You flatlined on us a couple of times."

"Flatlined?" Evidently no one had taught this young mediwizard that it was preferable to communicate with your patients in English.

"Your heart stopped." The new speaker was also young and dressed like a Muggle, though he had a strong Lancashire accent. Severus didn't recognise him either. "Good thing Mr H know CPR."

Severus contemplated asking what that might be supposed to mean, but didn't think he could get sufficient sarcasm into his voice. Instead he asked, "When will I be allowed to leave?"

"When you can stand up without falling over," the second youth said. The first boy put his hand out again to stop Severus making the attempt.

"Strictly speaking," he said, "you can go when Justin says you're ready. That won't be for a while; he's resting after spending most of the last hour working on you, and he knows I won't let him near you while he's tired. Even then, there's still a lot of damage to fix."

"What damage?" Severus demanded. If he knew the specifics, he would at least know which potions he should be drinking.

"General system damage, from what Justin said," he was told. "Nothing immediately life-threatening, but your body can't take much stress right now and your magic reserves are pretty much empty. The best thing for you to do is to relax and let yourself heal and recharge."

"Young man," Severus said levelly, "my students are currently engaged in a battle that may well decide the fate of the wizarding world. The one thing I am not going to do is relax!"

The boy was irritatingly unintimidated. "Well, you're not going to do anything more strenuous than lie there for the next half hour," he said.

Severus seethed. "This is ridiculous," he said. "I have to get back to Hogwarts. There are things Potter must be told."

"Yeah," the other young man said scathingly. "Showing up at a fight where half of your side think you're the enemy and you need help standing. Brilliant plan."

"At least we can do something about getting information to Harry," the first boy said. He looked pointedly at his colleague, who rolled his eyes.

"Alright," he said in martyred tones. "I'll get out of your way and call Amy." He stood, pulling an object Severus couldn't see clearly from his pocket, and walked away.

"You might want to brace yourself," the remaining young man said with a wry smile. "I expect, uh, Draco will be here as soon as he hears you're conscious."

Severus paused, remembering his fevered visions as he lay dying. "He brought me here?" he asked.

The boy nodded. "Arrived shouting his head off, demanding that we save your life." Severus could well imagine that scene. Draco in a panic would shout and bluster and generally make things three times more complicated than they needed to be. He bit back a groan, not surprised that his godson had been thrown out.

"I'm never going to get used to that reaction," the boy said, interrupting Severus's musings. "Everyone seems to expect... We've only known him for a few weeks, but how often do you think he's asked us for anything in time?"

"I imagine he's become quite wearisome," Severus said, puzzled.

"The only thing he's asked for was fixing Harry's wand," the boy disagreed, "and I had to coax that out of him. He wouldn't even ask for the things he needed. He's changed a lot, and I like the person he's becoming."

Severus tried to imagine his godson behaving in such a fashion. He failed spectacularly. Fortunately he was spared the opportunity to embarrass himself with further doubtless inane questions by the return of the second young man. He was holding something to his ear, something that looked distinctly Muggle in construction. Was it possible that these confusing children were squibs? It would certainly explain why Severus had never met them before.

"Harry says he's pretty sure he's got everything important," the young man said flatly. "He also said to say sorry his Dad was such a twat to you." Severus stared at him, moderately sure those were not Potter's exact words. The young man just shrugged. "Oh yeah, Craig, could you...?"

"Way ahead of you, Ste," another young man said from across the clearing. "We'll close up again once Conrad's here."

"Who...?" Severus began to ask. The crack of apparation interrupted him, and he lifted his hand to see Draco striding towards him, a girl by his side. "Draco?"

"Professor!" His godson looked well, Severus decided, aside from being dressed in rather non-descript Muggle attire that was clearly the worse for the battle. He looked more alive than Severus remembered seeing him for about a year, ever since the impossibility of the Dark Lord's task had begun to dawn on him. "Thank... I mean, it's good to see you alive, sir."

Another crack heralded another arrival, this time of a Death Eater. Severus fumbled for his wand, woefully slow, but to his amazement the vicious curse simply faded out several feet short of Draco. The Death Eater — Mulciber from his build — topped forwards, an axe sticking out of his back. "Nice throw," the girl commented, rising from the fighting crouch she had dropped into. Severus silently noted that she did not have a wand drawn. Another squib, perhaps?

"We aim to please." The cheery comment came in an American accent from a small group of people apparently resting nearby.

"Someone's keeping the gates open," the one addressed as Craig shouted. He and the man with him were gesturing vigorously, to no effect Severus could detect.

"No," the first young man said grimly. "Not here, I'm not having that." He stepped forward, the other boy — Ste — falling in behind him, and stretched his arm out. "Come here," he said with startling authority, and the two of them reached, twisted and pulled. There was a horrible ripping sound from the air, and Severus swore he saw an apparation point start to form in front of the boys before it dispersed like smoke.

The young man looked down at the severed hand he was now holding. "Uh," he said, sounding shocked. Severus certainly was; he had never seen a display of wandless magic like that, not even when Dumbledore or Voldemort were showing off.

"Where's the rest of him?" Ste asked sharply.

"Spread across half the county, I think," Craig replied. He sounded faintly sick. "He lost concentration when you grabbed him, and the Ways closed as you pulled him through. I think the rest of him just didn't reform."

"Do you want to keep that, Josh?" the American asked the first young man.

"Ugh, no!" Josh replied, dropping the hand with alacrity. He stepped back, colliding with Ste in his haste.

The American grinned as he retrieved his axe. "You never know," he said, "it might—"

"Don't say it," the girl interrupted. The American gave her a mournful look. "No. Honestly," she muttered, turning to Draco who was kneeling down beside Severus. "I can't believe he's supposed to be the responsible one."

Severus did his best to ignore the byplay. "Draco," he said, "you look well."

"And you look... terrible, sir." Severus imagined he did, but he was not accustomed to hearing that sort of honesty out of any Malfoy. Both Draco and his father were flatterers, ready to say whatever would give them the best advantage. Interesting.

Deciding against probing directly — something that almost never worked on young Slytherins anyway — he said instead, "I understand I have you to thank for my rescue."

Draco flushed. "Harry saw what happened through his link with You Know Who," he said, looking down. "I just brought you here."

Severus tried to keep the surprise off his face; avoiding any praise, never mind justly earned praise, was highly unlike the boy who had disappeared at the start of summer. "What happened to you, Draco?" he asked gently.

"I ran," was the candid answer. "I had failed my task, I couldn't kill Dumbledore. I knew I would be punished, probably killed, so I ran. I thought I'd found somewhere safe to hide, but..." He paused, clearly shaken by the memories of whatever had happened. The girl put her hand on his shoulder, and he smiled up at her. "Amy and her friends rescued me," he finished.

"I see," Severus said in exactly the same tone he used on students caught out after curfew whose excuses he found similarly lacking in detail. He looked pointedly at the girl.

To his credit, Draco didn't let his momentary look of panic show in his voice. "Amy, this is Professor Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and my godfather," he said in proper formal style. "Professor, allow me to introduce Amy Barnes, Vampire Slayer." He paused, allowing Severus a moment to consider the outlandish claim before adding, "And my girlfriend."

"Vampire Slayer?" Severus said in lieu of anything more sensible. It was meant to be a simple question, but Severus found himself ladening it with sarcasm. Amy gave him a rather fixed smile, and the boys Ste and Josh actually snorted with suppressed laughter despite being far enough away to give the illusion of privacy. "You think my scepticism is unjustified?" he asked them.

"Oh no," Ste said, apparently unruffled by Severus's irritation. "We just recognised your look is all."

"The look that says, 'You are in no way good enough for my child,'" Josh added helpfully. "Amy's dad is an absolute master of that look. We've all been on the receiving end of it."

"If you believe that you are reassuring me regarding Miss Barnes' wholesomeness," Severus informed him, "you are sadly mistaken. At the risk of repeating myself, you are the legendary Vampire Slayer?"

"No," Miss Barnes said with exaggerated politeness, "I'm _a_ legendary Vampire Slayer. There are another couple of dozen of us helping to defend the school, more world-wide."

Severus considered the claim for a moment. It was absurd on the face of it, and Draco was a practised enough liar to have fooled Severus in his current state. None of the others had reacted to either his or Miss Barnes's statement, though; either they were all practised at deception and expecting the attempt, or this really was nothing new to them. Much against his normally cynical nature, Severus was erring towards the latter explanation.

Regardless, there was a more important matter to deal with. "And may I ask your intentions regarding my godson?" he asked, putting as much menace into his tone as his current conditions allowed. He watched Miss Barnes carefully, ignoring the hilarity this seemed to engender in her collection of former boyfriends.

Miss Barnes drew herself up. "That's my business and his," she said plainly. It was a good act, but Severus could tell that she was not nearly as certain of herself and her position as she wished to appear.

"I love her," Draco said simply. "I want to stay here with her."

Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You realise that you would be giving up your inheritance?" he asked. "Your father will never accept a bride who is not from among the best pureblood families for you. He would consider it beneath his dignity to even contemplate a Weasley. For a Muggle, regardless of her prowess, the doors of the manor would be closed to you."

"They've been closed to me for months," Draco said with unexpected firmness. "Before I was rescued, I never expected to see the manor again, or have anything for myself. Since then... objects don't mean so much to me anymore. I've lived the last few weeks in a tiny flat, not using the Malfoy name, not even owning a wand, and I can't remember being happier. I've got friends, Uncle Severus, and nothing the Malfoy money or fame has ever done for me compares with them."

"A very impassioned speech," Severus said drily. Draco seemed entirely genuine, but he didn't imagine the boy's enthusiasm would last long. Judging from the way she held herself, neither did Miss Barnes.

"I mean it, sir," Draco said soberly. "If Josh asked me to give back my wand, I'd do it gladly."

"I'd rather you kept your wand and used it wisely," Josh said, "for all that seems to terrify you."

"I know what I did last time I had this much power," Draco complained. "I'm afraid that I'll do it again."

"Which is how we know we can trust you."

"You will need your wand," Severus observed, quietly shocked that Draco would contemplate a life without magic that seriously. "Should Potter prove victorious, there will still be public demand that anyone seen to have supported the Dark Lord be punished, and you are an obvious target."

"So are you, sir," Draco pointed out. "Please be careful."

"A lot of people are going to be very unhappy about anything like that," Josh said sternly. "Harry for starters. Amy, obviously, which would bring in the whole Watcher's Council. Then there's us, though I'm not sure we could do much beyond stop more snatch squads."

"And who exactly are you?" Severus asked. He had been unable to make any sense of the apparent power and inconsistent behaviour the young man exhibited.

Josh shot Draco a look. "Go on," he said, "you enjoy doing introductions."

The small grin that got back was fascinating on its own; Draco did not normally take any form of teasing well. "Sir," he said, "please meet Joshua Ashworth, Archdruid of the Holy Oaks, and his partner Steven Hay."

Severus gave Draco another sceptical look, which only provoked a larger grin, before turning to young Ashworth. "Many wizards are impressed by grandiose titles and outlandish claims," he said frostily. "I am not so credulous. Explain."

Ashworth shifted uncomfortably. "Actually I think 'Archdruid' is pushing it," he said.

"You're our leader, no mistake there," Hay said loyally.

"And as Professor Snape said, wizards expect over-embellished titles," Draco observed, still grinning. "Just 'Archdruid' is a bit plain, really. We'll need to think of something better if you want wizards to take druids seriously."

"Wizards are never going to take any sort of Wiccan seriously," Severus said. He certainly didn't. He had had the misfortune of being required to meet some New Age nature worshippers some years earlier. They had been less talented than Sibyl Trelawny and less well-connected to reality than the Lovegoods; speaking to them had been a waste of a perfectly good afternoon.

Miss Barnes snorted inelegantly. "I think Willow got plenty of respect when she shrank the giants," she said.

"We're a different sort of magic again from Wicca," Ashworth pointed out. "Different things are easy, or even possible."

Severus didn't bother glaring at him, since Ashworth seemed impervious. "Do you seriously expect me to believe that you can trace your magical lineage all the way to pre-Roman Britain?"

"Yeah, yeah, we've heard it all before," Hay said dismissively. "There haven't been druids for two thousand years. Now there are. Live with it."

"We think we've inherited all this from the ancient druids," Ashworth said more mildly, shooting his partner a reproving glance. "We don't know for certain. It doesn't really matter, though; the important thing is that the Grove accepted us."

"They've been doing the right thing, Uncle Severus," Draco said quietly. He looked serious but subdued. "It's been dangerous sometimes, but the place would be so much worse off without them. I would be so much worse off without them."

"I see," Severus said uncomfortably. He didn't entirely like the thought of Draco being beholden in any way to these not-quite-Muggles, but it seemed it was far too late to raise any objections. "It appears I have more than my life to thank you for," he told Ashworth grudgingly. "A lot more, if the Dark Lord's understanding of the Elder Wand is correct."

"Harry has a theory about that," Miss Barnes said.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Of course he does," he said. "Doubtless it puts him at the centre of the action. Would you care to enlighten me?"

Draco hesitated, then offered, "It's a long story."

Severus looked around the grove pointedly. "I appear to have the time."


	15. Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pay attention when the gods indulge in idle chit-chat in front of you. There's always a test afterwards.

"This will work," Willow said with more confidence than she felt.

They were back in the Room of Requirement, this time configured (once Voldemort's would-be junior minions had been untied and sent home) as a comfortable ritual space with a soft, raised mattress where you might expect an altar. Harry was sat on the mattress trying to reassure a worried Ron and failing just as badly as Willow. She had brought the druids in for support, and they were standing uneasily at the cardinal and intercardinal points. Hopefully they wouldn't need the spiritual safety net, but with something this dangerous and experimental Willow firmly believed in having as many backup plans as she could manage. She was all too well aware of how easy it was to get something subtly wrong, or just slightly misunderstood, and of how easily they could all be killed when that happened. That's why Professor Snape was sitting in a corner with an impressive array of potions for any eventuality.

"It's not like we've got much of a choice," Harry said, "and we won't get a better time." Voldemort's forces had retreated at least for the moment, presumably to lick their many wounds. Not that the defenders had gotten off easy; three Slayers were dead, as were a number of wizards, all of whom Harry knew of course. The Dork Lord's plan was probably to let Harry stew in those deaths until he did something stupid to stop any more happening. Which would have happened; Harry's original plan had been to get Voldemort to use the Elder Wand on him, killing the horcrux instead. That would probably have worked right up to the moment someone checked Harry's body, at which point he would have been dead for real. The ritual Willow had cooked up wasn't so sure to succeed, but she could pretty much guarantee Harry would be alive at the end of it. If nothing else, she and Xander both knew CPR.

"We'd better get started then," Josh Ashworth said with reluctance. Ron grimaced and stepped back, taking one last long look before heading back to the command post just off the Great Hall. He'd turned out to be a decent field tactician, to Buffy's delight, and she wanted him at hand in case Voldemort started anything.

Harry settled back as the eight druids moved inwards. They stopped when they had one hand each touching over the centre of both the room and Harry's body, and Josh spoke the phrases that Willow and Andrew had researched. Then all eight of them broke script and began chanting as they stepped away from Harry in a complicated weaving pattern.

"A maypole dance," Professor Snarkypants murmured. Willow could see the resemblance once he mentioned it. She could almost imagine the ribbons being woven into the net they had only talked about in abstract terms, and once she invoked the Sight she saw that was exactly what they were doing with the strands of magical power. Before long, Harry was surrounded by a large net of magic, loose enough that there was no danger of him touching it but tightly enough woven than nothing was getting in or out without the druids' at least noticing it.

"Your turn, Harry," Willow said once the druids seemed happy. "Time to summon your guides."

Harry settled his Invisibility Cloak loosely over his shoulders and with obvious reluctance put Death's Ring on his finger. The Resurrection Stone he had called it, even though it did no such thing. A few twists of the ring and four ghosts approached them. The druids shifted their dance slightly to allow free passage through their soul net.

"Mum! Dad!" Harry said brokenly as the ghosts manifested. Willow could see the family resemblance with the two ghosts who crowded around him, speaking soft words of encouragement. She recognised one of the other two; Remus Lupin, the werewolf wizard, had died only a few hours earlier alongside his wife. Their deaths had hit Harry hard. The last ghost must be Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. That veiled archway Harry had mentioned must have killed him then. A pity, Willow thought; she had been hoping to talk the wizards into letting her investigate it, but if it was just another way to die she didn't really want to know. She had seen more than enough death over the years, and knew first hand what a bad idea bringing people back was.

"At least I'll be with you," Harry said to something his mother had asked. "And the others will be able to kill Voldemort."

"Don't be too quick to join us, Harry," his father said. "We can wait. Besides, I'm counting on you for grandchildren. Have you found that someone special yet?"

"Dad!" Harry whined. He blushed, clearly uncomfortable with the teasing. So he did have a girlfriend then, Willow noted.

"Arthur and Molly's youngest," Lupin confirmed. Harry blushed harder as his parents smiled and nodded.

"Can we start the ritual now?" Harry asked plaintively.

"Just one moment," his father said. He stepped away from the group, and to Willow's surprise addressed Professor Snape. "Severus, I never got to apologise to you for my behaviour at school. I was a rude and arrogant teenager, and you were the victim of far too many of our pranks. I'm sorry I was so thoughtless. I should have known better than to treat anyone Lily cared about like that."

The professor looked like he was swallowing a lemon. Willow sympathised; she remembered Xander looking just as uncomfortable the first time Larry had treated him like a human being in public. If Cordelia had ever actually apologised for making Willow's life miserable, she would have felt the same way.

"I suppose it would be rude not to accept a posthumous apology," Snape said eventually. He still looked like he was considering being rude anyway. "Besides, Black was far worse than you."

"I was not!" the ghost of Sirius Black protested.

"Yes you were," the others said in unison. When it looked like Sirius might carry on protesting his relative innocence, Willow decided to intervene.

"Guys, I hate to hurry you, but we don't know how long His Snakiness is going to lick his wounds for," she said. It had the desired effect; Harry sighed and laid back, and the ghosts formed a protective huddle around him. They left just enough room for Willow to stand in without rudely passing through them.

"Ready?" she asked as Harry made himself comfortable. He nodded. "Remember, I can't leave your heart stopped for long or we may not be able to bring you back. Don't hang around more than you have to, OK?" Harry nodded again, and Willow found herself out of excuses.

She started by invoking Hecate, dark queen of the crossroads. She didn't need the power, Harry would be doing all the real work, but the goddess's blessing could be the difference between Harry coming back or not. Willow particularly didn't want to risk Hecate noticing the ritual and getting all huffy about not being invited.

Janus Psychopomp was next. The god of doorways might seem like an odd choice after Ethan Rayne's antics, but in this aspect he could help determine who went on to the afterlife and who stayed behind. Hopefully the end run they were doing around Voldemort's protections would appeal to his trickster nature.

Finally, Willow invoked Death. Death must heed his Master, she insisted. He could not come for Harry until Harry came to him willingly. She kept her hope quiet that Harry wouldn't be willing for a good few years yet. He was a good kid who had had a terrible childhood, and aside from dropping the hammer on Voldemort he deserved some time to enjoy himself.

Done with words, Willow reached out and touched Harry, let her magic guide his own around his beating heart. She couldn't hold it still herself without risking Harry's claim to the Elder Wand, but she could support him while he did it. Harry convulsed for a few seconds, gasping for air that wasn't doing him any good. Then he collapsed, and Willow watched his spirit separate from his body. Harry Potter was officially dead.

Willow saw Harry approach his spirit guides, the misshapen mass of the horcrux clinging to him like some demonic child. At the same time she saw Harry approaching a crossroads at which she stood, and watched as he came towards the portico she guarded. Evidently the gods she had invoked were taking an active interest this time. It was confusing, to put it mildly.

"Careful, sister," she/Janus murmured. "You don't want to break your little witch."

She/Hecate sniffed. "If she breaks, she had no business calling on us."

She/Willow kept quiet. Nothing she could say could possibly make this any easier. At least Death hadn't put in a personal appearance.

"Now what?" Harry asked. He tried to shake the whimpering horcrux off, which only made it cry out and hold on tighter. "It won't let go," he said worriedly.

Willow had been afraid that might happen since they couldn't use the Elder Wand. The beings empowering her were utterly unsurprised; since Harry was just as dead as the soul fragment, of course it could still cling on to him. "It will go where it wants to go," they intoned through her.

"Well, we'd better stop it," Black declared, and grabbed at the little beast. It was all so predictable to the gods Willow was trying not to get lost in. The men tried to rip the horcrux away from Harry by main force, using their strength and what personal magic remained to them. They failed dismally. The thing was much too strong, had much too good a hold for them to pry even a finger loose, and it screeched like it was being killed. Which in a way it was, but Willow still found the sound really unnerving. She tried to use her own magic to help, but the gods stopped her. "This is their problem to solve," Hecate said to her sternly, talking straight into her mind. "We played our part by allowing them this choice. We may not take the choice from them."

"A little advice wouldn't go amiss," Willow muttered in frustration.

"Already given, little one," Janus said cheerfully. "It's not our fault if the dimwits didn't listen."

"Stop it, all of you," Lily Potter shouted a few moments later. "This isn't the way."

She couldn't have heard Willow's internal conversation, so she must have figured out something on her own. Willow felt curiosity from Janus that turned into outright smug approval as Lily approached the horcrux, speaking softly and soothingly the whole while. She petted it and cajoled it like she would have a frightened animal, offering reassurance until its cries quietened and the little beast let go of Harry to grasp at the comfort it was being shown.

"There, there," she crooned, "it'll be alright. It's safe here, no one will hurt you." She gave the other ghosts a pointed stare until they hurriedly and rather unconvincingly agreed with her.

Harry watched his mother walk away slowly enough that the battered fragment of Voldemort's soul didn't notice. "The power the Dark Lord knows not," he murmured wonderingly. Love, Hecate observed, not bothering to hide her distaste at the sentimentality. Janus didn't mind that, and found the irony pleasing. Willow didn't need to be told how powerful love could be, not after losing Tara had driven her mad.

"What happens now?" Harry asked as the ghosts moved far enough away from his body/over the crossroads/into the portico.

"They move on," Hecate said through Willow. "You choose."

"What about...?" Harry gestured vaguely at the horcrux.

The reply was all Janus-mischief: "Oh, it gets to choose too."

Right on cue, the horcrux seemed to notice that Harry wasn't with it any more. It screeched, wriggled out of Lily's arms and bounded back towards Harry. Harry backed away rapidly, then sagged with relief when the thing hit a fence that had slid into place between them. Willow recognised the weave of the druids' net. They must have shifted it once the horcrux was clear of Harry, and did it gently enough not to be obvious in the magical landscapes.

"Clever boys," Janus said approvingly. And audibly, apparently, from the look on Harry's face. His mother simply scooped the creature back up, hushed its crying and quietly walked back to the other ghosts. The look in her eyes said that she wished it was Harry she was holding, but not a quaver of that entered her voice.

"Don't encourage the mortals," Hecate warned. "They'll forget they need us."

"They don't need us, sister," Janus replied. Willow got the distinct impression he was 'talking' for her benefit. "The sun rises without Apollo's chariot as the Earth spins. Lightning strikes without the attention of thunderous Zeus, and lights whole cities. Even the weak places don't need our attention like they used to. They're learning, sister; that was always the point."

"We should never have allowed the imposters so much time."

"An argument for another day. It's getting late."

He was right, Willow realised. Harry had been out of his body for a long time now, long enough for the ghosts and the horcrux to have passed out of sight. Time often did strange things in rituals, and Willow hoped it was doing so now. She really didn't want to find out what happened if you had serious oxygen starvation and no Slayer healing.

"I summon the spirit of Harry Potter," she began, speaking with her own mouth in the real world as the otherness began to fade around her. "By my will I call upon the power of Hecate and of Janus—"

Harry opened his eyes.

"—to bind... Oh, OK. Great Powers, I thank you for your aid today. The deed is done, the promise fulfilled. Blessed be." Willow closed the ritual and let the power dissipate, though not before she had checked that really was Harry there and he was securely stapled back into his body. She felt one last burst of amusement and cool assessment as the god and goddess withdrew, apparently happy enough with proceedings. At the same time the druids slowed, simplified and finally stopped their dance, unweaving their net and leaving everything as it had been when they began. For a moment, everything was still and silent.

"Drink this," Professor Snape ordered, striding forward and thrusting a potion bottle into Harry's hands. Harry did as he was told, grimacing at the taste and then blinking in surprise as he suddenly came fully awake.

"How do you feel?" Willow asked.

"A lot better, thanks," Harry said. He nodded gratefully to the professor.

"I meant about..." Willow gestured at Harry's forehead, not quite knowing how to put her question into words.

"Any headaches, nausea or inexplicable desires to sniff people's hair?" Xander asked. He really needed to get over the hyena thing, Willow thought.

It made Harry laugh, though, which might have been the point. "No, nothing like that," he said. "I feel... I don't know how to describe it. Lighter, maybe? Like there isn't someone constantly looking over my shoulder?"

"That figures," Josh said, smirking. "The thing that was constantly looking over your shoulder is gone."

Harry leaned back. "It's really gone," he said wonderingly.

"Yup," Willow said, aiming to join in the general humour. "Cast-iron guaranteed 100% moved on to the next plane of existence."

Harry luxuriated in the idea for a bit. "I wonder why the afterlife looked like King's Cross Station," he pondered aloud. Then he determinedly pushed himself upright. "No, never mind," he said, before Willow could start asking about what he had seen in the ritual that she evidently hadn't. "We should get back to the others. We still have to figure out how to kill Nagini."

They met Kennedy at the doors. "Get a move on," she said after giving Willow a kiss on the cheek. "Voldebork and his Merry Minions are headed up to the gates to discuss our surrender."

Harry looked a little surprised. "That's overconfident, even for him," he said.

"It's symbolic," Josh said, looking out of a hole in the wall. "It's nearly dawn, and he wants to make you think it belongs to him."

Harry smiled grimly. "Let's go and reclaim the day, then."

******

"I have no desire to spill magical blood."

Hermione didn't like to think of herself as overly cynical, but she didn't for one moment believe Voldemort's smooth words. She wasn't the only one; nobody scoffed out loud with Voldemort actually in front of them, but an undercurrent of disbelief ran around Hogwarts' defenders.

"That's very generous of you," Professor McGonagall snapped back, "considering how many people you've already killed."

Voldemort ignored her. Hermione wished Harry would finish what he was doing and get here; Voldemort seemed to be constitutionally incapable of ignoring him, no matter how confident he claimed to be.

"You must know that you cannot defeat me," Voldemort was saying. "You have fought bravely, but your Muggle pets cannot win you the day."

Buffy Summers narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Watch who you're calling a pet, mister," she said, "unless you've got some more giants you'd like to lose."

"And how many of your sisters lie dead, Slayer?" Voldemort fired back. Hermione winced. Two young slayers had slaughtered the giants Willow had shrunk down to a mere ten feet tall. They had been killed almost immediately by angry Death Eaters, despite the covering fire Hermione and others had tried to give them. They weren't the only ones to die.

"In recognition of your bravery," Voldemort continued, ignoring the anger of the remaining Slayers, "I will allow any wizard or witch who so wishes to join my Death Eaters now. You will not be punished for your defiance if you take this opportunity. If you do not, you will die."

The matter-of-fact way he said it chilled Hermione. For whatever reason, despite the damage they had already done to his forces, Voldemort genuinely believed he would win. That made her pause, wondering why.

Neville didn't stop to wonder. He just limped forward, glared at Voldemort and said, "No. Never mind that you'd have plenty of other excuses to torture me, what you're doing is wrong." The was a round of mocking laughter from the Death Eaters, but Neville didn't seem deterred at all. Hermione supposed that Snape really had done worse to him in class.

The laughter died away as Malfoy stepped up beside Neville. "He's right," Malfoy said. "I've lived under your rule and tried to be your good little minion. It really wasn't worth it."

"There may be more of you than there are of us," Neville said, "but we've got allies. _Friends._ The Slayers came and helped us because what you're doing is the sort of wrong they fight. The more wrong you do, the more groups like them will find their way to us.

"I know you care even less about allies than your minions. That's why you haven't got any now. Your giants are dead. The acromantulas left." That had been one of the most horrifying things Hermione had witnessed. The acromantulas had attacked where Hagrid happened to be, and of course he had shouted to the defenders not to kill any of Aragog's children, that they were just misunderstood. A Death Eater had taken advantage of his distraction to cast something that made Hagrid scream and collapse, blood dripping from his nose and ears. The spider swarm had changed direction instantly, overwhelming the Death Eater before he even realised what was happening. His screams had cut off quickly, mercifully. The acromantulas left only blood, bones and cloth behind. Then they had carried Hagrid off into the forest, ignoring the rest of the battle. Hermione hoped her friend was alright, but she was very much afraid he had been dead before the spiders had picked him up.

"All you've got," Neville finished contemptuously, "is a pet snake."

Nagini hissed and reared up, ready to strike at Neville. Voldemort raised one hand to stop her, and smiled. "Brave words," he said condescendingly. "Tell me, boy, where is your Saviour? Where is Harry Potter?"

He paused long enough to let the question ripple around the defenders and uncertainty settle in. Before Hermione could nerve herself to say that Harry was on his way, he continued. "It is no secret that your precious Boy Who Lived shares a bond with me. I know what it is that you are so desperate to hide. I felt his fear. I felt his pain. And I felt his passing." Voldemort threw his arms wide in a dramatic gesture and shouted, "Harry Potter is dead!"

"I got better," Harry shouted back. He strode confidently out of Hogwarts' entrance, Miss Rosenberg and Professor Snape at his heels. The young druids followed along behind him. Hermione had never been so relieved in her life.

A murmur ran around the Death Eaters, and Hermione heard several of them say Snape's name as well as Harry's. "Yes," Snape said drily, "I too 'got better', though without half the drama Potter managed."

"Your heart stopped, Professor," Josh said. "Twice. That was plenty enough drama."

"Things really aren't going well, are they Tom?" Harry taunted. "You haven't taken Hogwarts. You haven't killed me. You haven't even killed Snape, and he wasn't trying to stop you. And you were wrong about that, too; Snape wasn't the master of the Elder Wand. He may have killed Dumbledore, but it was Draco Malfoy who defeated Dumbledore. And then I beat Draco in a duel, and neither of us knew what I'd just done." He huffed a little laugh, then became very serious. "I believe you have something of mine."

"I have everything of yours, brat," Voldemort spat, "and I will destroy it all." He raised the Elder Wand dramatically and screamed the single word, "Come!"

Hermione felt an awfully familiar chill. "Dementors," she yelled. _"Expecto patronum!"_

Hers wasn't the only patronus to disrupt the Dementors as they flowed up towards the school. She saw Harry's stag flash past, along with several others she didn't have time to identify. She didn't have time for much, truthfully; only the fact that the Death Eaters hadn't been expecting Voldemort's move either had given the defenders even that much time.

The fight happened in a blur. She saw Malfoy knock Neville out of the way of Nagini's lunge, only to have to dive aside himself. She saw Miss Summers rush past, wielding that terrifyingly sharp scythe of hers, and somehow start killing Dementors. She saw Miss Rosenberg, her red hair bleached white with power, cast shield after shield to protect everyone she could. She felt the warmth of happiness as the druids did something to nullify the Dementors' power and drive them back. She saw Amy Barnes fighting Nagini hand to hand, striking the snake hard enough with her bare fist to affect it even through all the protections Voldemort must have layered on it. She saw Draco Malfoy protect his girlfriend's back with everything he had. She saw Narcissa Malfoy calmly defend her son and husband while one was oblivious and the other useless. She saw Bellatrix Lestrange clip Ginny with a cutting curse, only to be ripped apart by a furious Molly Weasley. And she heard the thunder of hooves as the centaurs charged out of the forest and into the flank of the Death Eaters.

In that moment when the Death Eaters were thrown into confusion and Hermione had a chance to breathe for the first time in what felt like hours, everything came to a head. Nagini managed to catch Amy hard enough to wind her; Malfoy leapt in the way to defend her, and Neville charged in with an incoherent cry. Nagini lunged for Amy, brushing Malfoy aside as if he was nothing, and something glittered in the air. Then Nagini's head was rolling sideways and Neville was holding Gryffindor's Sword high, staring at it dumbfounded.

Voldemort's scream of rage brought the battle to a halt. Moments later, Neville was the one screaming as the cruciatus curse hit him. Malfoy immediately tried to counter the curse; Hermione doubted he would have succeeded against Voldemort's fury if Harry hadn't stepped in front of them.

"It's over, Tom," Harry shouted. "We've destroyed all your second chances. Your Death Eaters are outnumbered. You've lost."

"I still have more power than your entire army," Voldemort raved. "That fool will suffer for what he did to my beautiful Nagini. And you, brat, you will die knowing you couldn't save him. _Avada kedavra!_ "

_"Expelliamus!"_

Hermione was close enough to feel the rush of power as the wands resonated and the spells repelled each other violently. Harry went flying backwards, fortunately caught by cushioning charms from Ron, Malfoy, Neville and Hermione herself. Voldemort simply wobbled on his feet, then collapsed to the ground and lay still.

It was oddly anticlimactic. Despite knowing better, Hermione had half expected Voldemort's death to be accompanied by fireworks, or perhaps for what was left of his soul to rise up like smoke and disperse on the wind, as Tolkien had described Saruman's death. For Voldemort to just stop moving like that seemed wrong. Hermione felt obscurely cheated.

Snape and McGonagall advanced cautiously towards the body, checking with both spell and touch that he really was dead. Snape gave the merest hint of a smile, allowing McGonagall to rise and declare, "Lord Voldemort is dead!"

"And he's not getting better this time," Harry said with a tired smile. "So that's it, then. It's finally over."

"Reckon so," Ron said, strolling up. "All bar the shouting anyway." All around them Death Eaters were fleeing, surrendering or making futile attempts to cause as much damage as they could. It didn't matter. The boys were right; the war was over, and everything else was just footnotes in history.

"At least we'll get to finish school now," she said, "even if it will be a year late."

Harry groaned, but Ron smiled. He stepped up to her and kissed her soundly on the lips, just like she had always hoped he would. "That's why I love you," he whispered.

She kissed him back. "And that's why I love you."


	16. Epilogue

Xander heard Conrad start to formally introduce Amy to his mother and did a quick fade backwards. He had only been looking for his Slayer to make sure none of the police wizards were trying anything on with her, and he was happy enough that Mrs Malfoy could and would send the little weasels running.

Growing up in Sunnydale hadn't given Xander the greatest respect for law enforcement officers, and these Auroras or whatever they were supposed to be called were right up there with Sunnydale PD. They had shown up once the fight was safely over and tried to take control. Xander had been thoroughly impressed by the contempt with which the snarky Principal had dismissed that powerplay, casually directing them to remove the Death Eaters his staff indicated and otherwise keep out from under foot. They had practically wet themselves when they discovered just how many non-wizards were present. One of them had actually tried removing the memories of one of the baby Slayers and had been punched in the face for his trouble. Fortunately his boss had been present, a big black guy who had actually taken part in the battle, so it was the officer who'd had a strip torn off him, not the Slayer.

With Amy at least temporarily safe, Xander went in search of Andrew. Much as he loved the man, leaving Andrew alone in a centre of magical learning wasn't a smart idea. Leaving Josh alone in a centre of magical learning wasn't smart either, but at least Josh would be politer about it and probably had Ste to restrain him. If Andrew got into the library, it would take a direct order from the Principal to get him back out again.

Fortunately it turned out they were in the Great Hall. The school's house elves — the little critters still weirded Xander out — had apparently decided that half the hall being used as an infirmary was no excuse for starting breakfast late. When Xander homed in on the smell of bacon, he found little groups of students, staff and slayers sitting around the tables, mostly looking half asleep. His friends were, of course, the exception, and Xander couldn't help grinning. Andrew, Josh and Willow were deep in conversation with the really short teacher who was supposed to be the go-to guy for magical theory. All four of them looked alarmingly animated, to the point where Xander wasn't sure it was safe to go near them. From the large empty space around them, he wasn't alone in his fears.

Before Xander could decide how to implement a strategic withdrawal while still scoring breakfast, Willow looked up and waved him over. Switching on his best smile, Xander squashed in beside Andrew. "Hey guys," he said, "looks like you've got quite the symposium going on here." As he gave his other half a quick peck on the cheek, a clean plate and cutlery appeared in front of him. He made a mental note to see if Slayer Central could get a couple of house elves to come work for them. Getting the girls to lay the table only resulted in broken crockery.

"Professor Flitwick has some fascinating theories as to how our differing approaches to magic affect the world around us," Andrew said. Xander could tell he was restraining his enthusiasm to socially acceptable levels, though the others probably hadn't noticed. This Flitwick guy must be really hot stuff.

"I thought it was just about what power source we used?" Xander offered. That really was as much as he'd taken in of Andrew's last attempt to explain.

"That was my initial assumption," Flitwick said happily, "but it appears to be quite wrong. The underlying field manipulations..."

Xander let the discussion wash over him, listening with one ear as he started to load up on breakfast. Having been brought up on the wonders of sugary cereals, he still wasn't used to the British idea of a fry-up, though to be fair he wasn't used to any cooked food that didn't come in take-out cartons. It said something about his life that he found the food odder than the magically appearing plates.

"Mr Harris?" Xander looked up to see Amy and Conrad standing behind him. Harry sat himself on the end of the group and started loading his plate. "We just wanted to tell you we were going home," Conrad continued. So that he wouldn't panic when he failed to find them later, Xander assumed. Which was good, but not as interesting as the way Conrad obviously wanted to be Conrad still, treating Amy's place as home when his mother must have tried to get him to Malfoy Manor. Amy must have noticed the same thing from the mushy way she was smiling at her boyfriend.

It was also handy timing from Xander's point of view. "Hang on and I'll come with you," he said, mopping at his plate with a piece of toast. "Before all this blew up I arranged for some property viewings, and realtors wait for no man."

Josh turned to him. "You and Andrew are looking for somewhere to live?" he asked.

Xander nodded, chewing rapidly. He gestured for Andrew to explain. "Not just ourselves," Andrew said obligingly. "We also need to house the slayers who will accompany Amy on her patrols, and of course space for guests."

Josh grinned brightly. He turned and shouted "Ste!" across the Hall, attracting surprisingly little attention considering. Ste turned out to be over with the injured, somewhat to Xander's surprise. Then again, maybe he shouldn't be surprised given that Ste had even less patience when the talk got all high-flown and theoretical. Either way, he wandered over at Josh's vigorous gesturing.

"What's up?" he asked, nodding a greeting to the others.

"Mr H is going house-hunting," Josh told him. Ste looked blank. "For a big house," Josh clarified.

Ste grinned. "One that might have space for a couple of teenagers?" he asked.

"Exactly my thinking," Josh said, grinning back.

Ste turned to Xander. "I could help you with the estate agents," he offered.

Xander managed to look stern for all of two seconds. He had been wondering whether any of the other druids might want to move in. John Paul in particular seemed to be in a running battle with his sisters to keep his room to himself, but Josh and Ste wanting somewhere less crowded than the Ashworths' didn't surprise him. Besides, Ste was an excellent haggler. Xander could evaluate the construction quality easily enough, but he didn't know British prices and a decent realtor could bamboozle him. Ste was way too cynical to fall for those tricks, and Xander could back him up with the facts. All in all, a winning combination.

"Alright," he said, sighing for effect. "Who else wants to come?"

"I took Craig and John Paul back earlier," Harry said between bites.

"And you won't get Justin out from the infirmary now," Ste said. "He's having too much fun watching them heal people." Learning how bodies healed, Xander thought; yes, that made sense. And where Justin was, Jake was going to be as well.

"That's still three of us needing a ride," he observed. Conrad — or should it be Draco now? — had told him that side-along apparating was chancier than just teleporting yourself. He could manage two passengers if there was no hurry or stress, but three was asking for trouble.

Harry looked down at his plate and sighed mournfully. "Well, it's not like I'm going to get to sleep any time soon," he said.

"Too much to do here?" Xander asked sympathetically. The press were bound to want a piece of the Boy Who Lived, and by all accounts Professor Snape wasn't likely to put too much effort into hiding him.

Amy and Draco shuffled and dismally failed to suppress smirks. Xander raised an eyebrow at Harry, who went bright red. "Ron and Hermione went to bed earlier," Harry explained.

It took Xander an embarrassingly long time to realise Harry meant he'd been sexiled from his own dorm room. "We left the tent up," he suggested. Harry had been living in the thing for months, and anyway it was ridiculously comfortable for a tent. Carpets, seriously?

Harry looked torn. "But what if somebody need me?"

"Then we'll call Xander," Willow told him. "You should really get some rest after everything you've done. You're definitely allowed to goof off after defeating the Big Bad. It's in the contract."

"It is," Xander confirmed. "The Council's contract of employment is very clear about it. Buffy insisted."

"OK, you've convinced me," Harry laughed. He shoved half a sausage in his mouth and stood up.

"Where is Buffy?" Willow asked.

"She's with Snape, making sure the magic cops leave the girls alone," Xander said. "They're kind of a terrifying combo."

"They haven't killed each other yet?" Amy asked.

"The snark levels are toxic," Xander admitted, "but I think they're immune. They certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves." Harry and Draco looked at each other and made identical 'Ew!' faces. "Not like that," Xander insisted. He paused and reconsidered. "I hope."

Harry chewed and swallowed the last of his breakfast. "We're going to your place?" he asked Amy. She nodded. "Right then," Harry said, taking Ste and Xander firmly by the arm. "We'll see you later." There was the nauseating squashy-stretchy feeling of wizardly transport, and suddenly they were in Amy's living room.

"What the bloody hell?"

That wasn't Mike Barnes, Xander thought with a sinking feeling. He and the others turned to see Mike sitting with a girl Xander vaguely recognised. Michaela, that was it; Amy's best friend and John Paul's little sister. Oh boy, was this going to be messy.

Amy's father had put his mug down and was on his feet in seconds. "Ames," he said, dragging her into a hug. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine, Dad," she said. "Nothing that a long hot shower won't fix." Which was true; Xander had done his Watcherly duty after the battle and checked her over. Somehow she had managed to get away with no more than bruising and being drenched in snake blood, which Conrad had magicked off her quickly anyway.

Mike looked up at Conrad, who was hovering uncertainly nearby, and extended an arm to pull him into the hug. "I'm just glad you're both home safe," he said.

"So are we, Mr Barnes," Conrad said thickly.

"What's going on?" Michaela demanded, standing up as well. "Where did you go, and how did you just appear like that?"

"Good questions," Xander said. He looked at Harry, who was starting to look a little panicky. Oh yeah, the whole Statute of Secrecy thing. Xander put a restraining hand on Harry's arm to stop him doing anything stupid, and turned to Amy. "It's your call," he told her. Both choices had their risks: not knowing about the things that go bump in the night could get you just as dead as trying to help out.

Before Amy had a chance to respond, there was a cry of "Amy!" and Mark ran into the room. He practically launched himself at her, trying to hug as much of her as he could. "You're safe," he cried. "Did you win? Did you get all the bad wizards?"

"So much for that being an actual choice," Ste muttered.

"Bad wizards," Michaela repeated disgustedly, then evidently took in the expressions of the rest of the group. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Yes, we're serious," Amy said, "and yes, we won. We caught all the important bad wizards. I'll tell you all about it, but first I need to talk to Michaela, OK? I need to tell her about everything that's happened since just before you came to live here."

Marks' face fell. "But that'll take forever," he protested.

"It will take a while," Amy said calmly, "but someone I know need to dress himself properly, wash his face, eat his breakfast and brush his teeth. That could take a while too."

Mark considered this. "Can I have Frosties?" he asked.

"We've run out," Amy told him.

"Good thing I brought a new box with me, then," Mike said. Xander tried to keep a poker face; he'd asked Mike to slip extra breakfast cereal in after seeing just how much the wizards had got through.

"Thanks, Grandad!" Mark gave Mike a great big hug before running back into his bedroom.

"That's our cue to go too," Xander said. "Come on guys, I've got an appointment to make." He started steering Harry towards the door.

"Wait, you're not going to stay and help?" Amy asked. She sounded very different now from the confident mother of a minute earlier. Xander had faith in her all the same.

"Nah, you've got this," he said cheerily. "Besides, he's all the show-and-tell you need." He indicated Conrad, who blushed furiously but held his ground. Another point in the 'Hopelessly in love with Amy' column, Xander figured.

"She can't talk about magic," Harry hissed as Xander led him out of the house. "She could got Mal— um, Conrad in big trouble."

"She can talk about herself," Xander countered. "Once Michaela knows about Slayers she automatically becomes associated with the Council and our agreement with the Ministry cuts in. It's all kosher." Xander had worried enough about this to check with Giles, so he knew he was giving the party line. Except that Giles had used phrases like _de facto_ and _de jure_ and probably even _quod erat demonstrandum._

"Oh." Harry slumped as the panic went out of him. "That's good."

"Let's get you to the tent," Ste said, subtly helping Xander to steer the young wizard. "If you're getting that worked up about legalities, you really need some shut-eye."

Sometimes, Xander reflected as they walked into the wintry morning, he couldn't believe how his life had turned out. His ambitions pre-High School hadn't got much further than not turning into a drunk. Travelling the world and settling down in a little village in the north of England hadn't even been on the radar. Yet here he was, in the company of an honest-to-God prophesied hero and another teenager trying to turn around a hard-earned criminal record. He could only be happier if Andrew was here too.

Even if he was turning into Giles.


End file.
